


Catch Me If You Can - Outtakes and Extra Scenes

by LetItRaines



Series: Catch Me If You Can [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Baseball, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:48:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 40,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22655785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LetItRaines/pseuds/LetItRaines
Summary: A collection of outtakes and extra scenes for Catch Me If You Can. Ratings will vary.Feel free to send me a prompt here or in my inbox over on Tumblr!
Relationships: Captain Hook | Killian Jones/Emma Swan
Series: Catch Me If You Can [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629835
Comments: 236
Kudos: 248





	1. The Wedding (kind of)

**May 12th, 2021**

“Are we out of milk?”

“We couldn’t possibly be out of milk.”

“I am looking in the fridge, and I don’t see any.”

“Darling, we went grocery shopping – ” Killian sighs and places his hands on his hips as he taps his foot. “Shit, when was the last time we bought food?”

Emma closes the refrigerator door and turns around before pulling her phone out of the waistband of her leggings, thumbing through the screen with her brows pinched together. “It says our last delivery order was April 13th. That was literally a month ago.”

“I mean, technically it was almost a month ago. Tomorrow it would be a month ago.”

“I would really love if you weren’t an ass right now because I’m hungry, and I really wanted a bowl of cereal.”

Killian shakes his head and steps up to Emma, moving into her space and placing his hands on her hips while his head dips down to her neck so he can kiss the skin there. There’s still the slightest hint of the scent of her perfume from last night, and it will never not be intoxicating. Emma will never not be intoxicating.

“It will take us five minutes to get milk, three if we run across the street instead of walking like civilized human beings.”

Emma hums and cranes her neck to give him more access to her while her hands wrap around his waist, nails scratching at his back. “And buy groceries in person like we’re living a decade ago? That seems like far too much effort.”

He nips at her skin in a place he knows she likes. “I’ll make you brownies if we go.”

“You really know the way to a girl’s heart.”

“I know the way to yours.”

“Ooh, that was cheesy.”

“We can buy cheese too.”  
  


Emma scoffs and hits his back before moving her head so she can lightly brush her lips against his, quick and fleeting until it isn’t. Life is always nonstop, but once the season starts, it’s an entirely different ballgame. Literally. Either one or both of them are always on the road, and while their work generally happens at the same time, Killian has training and practice and PT while Emma has meetings that usually happen at the rare times when Killian is home. Then there’s the press Ariel has Killian doing lately, and it’s leaving very little time to stand in the kitchen and curl his tongue around Emma’s while her fingers tug on his hair.

Glorious. God, he always loves when she does that. Her hands are like magic.

“You’re very good at this.”

“Kissing you? I would hope so. Otherwise I don’t know why you would have stayed with me for this long.”

Emma’s smile presses into his. “Two years isn’t that long in the grand scheme of things.”

“Aye, but the marriage license we filled out last week says you’re planning on far more than two years.”

Her lips run across his jaw, and a shiver works down Killian’s spine and settles at the bottom as his jeans tighten. “Divorces work. I could divorce you the day after we got married if I wanted.”

“Would you?”

“I could. It would keep the marriage fresh and spicy.”

“I would really appreciate it if you never described our relationship using those two words ever again.”

“Why? That’s what all the old women tell me when they give me unsolicited relationship advice.”

“People not being able to shut their mouths is the exact reason why I didn’t want to announce the engagement.”

“We didn’t, ah – ” Emma’s body shivers at his touch and he smirks into her skin before his hands move down to her leggings, fumbling the slightest bit until he feels flesh. “We didn’t announce it. I started wearing a ring, and the tabloids put it together.”

“Fucking tabloids are the scum of the earth.”

Killian’s hand moves again as he gently nudges Emma back to the countertops, his lips and his teeth only ever moving away from her enough to speak. Her skin is so damn warm and softer than anything he’s ever felt, and he loves getting lost in her. It’s a high greater than any win.

“This doesn’t seem like we’re getting milk,” Emma sighs as he helps boost her up onto the countertop, “and you’re going to kill your knees.”

He arches a brow even though she can’t see it. “What makes you think I’m about to get down on my knees?”

“Because I know you, and I know what we’re heading toward.”

“Awfully presumptuous of you, Swan.”

“Ah, well, if that wasn’t what you were intending, I’d highly suggest it.”

Killian huffs and moves away from Emma’s neck until he’s kissing Emma, pressing his mouth against hers and drinking her in. He’s the luckiest bastard in the world, and for all of the good in his life, there is nothing better than Emma. She changed so much for him, continues to still do so, and he’d be happy to spend every day of his life with her just like this.

Just he and Emma.

_Just them._

He pulls back from the kiss, sucking in a breath of air, before resting his forehead against hers. Her hands are still in his hair, his hands are on the outside of her thighs, and he can’t seem to focus on anything but the way her nose presses into his cheek exactly like it’s always belonged there, like it’s always fit there.

Like she’s always fit.

“Marry me.”  
  


“What?”

“Marry me, Emma.” He smiles into her lips and then pulls back enough so he can see her eyes. They’ve always been a ridiculously gorgeous shade of green, but right now, they’ve somehow got a hint of blue. “Right now, today.”

Her hand runs through his hair until fingers are pressing against his cheek. “We have a venue booked for forty days from now, have spent far too long picking out cake because you’re a dessert snob, and I have a ridiculously expensive white dress in the closet. And you want to get married today?”

“I want to marry you every day.”

“You’re on it today with the romantic declarations.”

“Are you saying there’s a day where I’m not?”

“Oh, most definitely.”

Killian laughs before kissing Emma again. He can’t seem to stop that. “Well, while I’m having a good day for romantic declarations, why don’t we grab our marriage license, head down to the clerk’s office, and get married? Just you and me, Swan? It’ll be great. We can still have the big party with our family, you can still look gorgeous in that dress, but this would be – ”

“Just us,” Emma finishes for him. She pulls back and stares down at him, brows furrowed. “Are you serious? You want to get married today, twenty-nine? For real?”

“If you’d like. If not, we can wait. We have all of these other plans, and I don’t – ”

Emma smacks her lips against his and cups both of his cheeks. “Let’s get married today. Can you give me fifteen minutes to put some dry shampoo in my hair and change into clothes without stains?”

“What? You don’t want to get married looking like you do?”

Emma winks. “What can I say? I’m a woman of standards.”

Killian chuckles and moves away from Emma until she’s hopping down from the countertop and tugging her shirt down and her leggings up. Her cheeks are absolutely flushed, and she’s got the beginning of beard burn on her chin. “Oh, and twenty-nine?”

“Yeah?”

“I fully expect you to finish what you started here when we get back.”

  
  
“I was planning on it.”

It takes more than fifteen minutes for them to leave the apartment. Emma decides to fix her hair and put on a little makeup while he takes a shower and trims his scruff, but a little under an hour later, their hands are intertwined as they ride down the elevator to the lobby so they can get a cab to the courthouse. He’d drive, but honestly, parking is awful, and his nerves might be a little too much for that right now.

He plays in front of thousands of people all the time, but he’s got nerves over marrying the woman he’s known he was going to marry since almost the beginning of their time together.

This is decidedly different than playing baseball.

This is not his job. This is his life, their life, and as beautiful as he’s sure Emma will look in her wedding dress that she and Elsa found, she looks just as beautiful now in a long pink floral dress. They’d both debated on jeans and a nice shirt, but then Emma had decided on this dress while he pulled on a pair of navy slacks and a white button-down. It’s as if they’re going on a date or having to dress up for work, but that’s not what it is.

Killian still can’t quite believe that they’re doing this on a random Wednesday when they had so many other plans.

Not that their lives have ever gone according to plan.

“What are we going to do about a witness?” Emma asks as her hand squeezes his over his thigh. “Should we call someone and see if they can show up? Oh shit. Are we telling our families we did this?”

“Do you want to tell our families we did this?”

Her leg starts bouncing. “Not really. I mean, I do, but I – ”

“Want to keep this just between us?”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, resting her cheek on his shoulder, “I think so. David and Mary Margaret will probably be pissed if they ever found out.”

“Liam and Elsa too. Anna most of all. Oh, shit, Addy and Lucy really will be. We’ll definitely have to wait until after the wedding to tell them.”

“If we ever tell them.”

“Yeah,” Killian agrees, “if we ever tell them. I’m sure we’ll be able to find someone at the courthouse to be our witness. I’m rather charming. I think I could convince someone.”

“Unless they’re a Red Sox fan.”

“We’re in New York.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

  
  
Killian squeezes her hand, both to reassure Emma but also himself. “It’ll all be okay. If we can’t find anyone, I’d be happy to marry you tomorrow.”

It’s not long before they’re walking down the hallway of the city clerk’s office and then standing in line with at least ten other couples. Some are in dresses and tuxes, surrounded with families and friends, and Killian checks with Emma one more time to make sure there’s no wariness on her face over them having none of their loved ones here. All he can see is a beaming smile.

“Hey,” someone starts, turning to Killian, “are you – ”

“Aye.”

“Holy shit. Your 2019 win was just…damn, man. That was awesome. What do you think your odds are this year? I know last year sucked, but I’ve got hope for this year.”

“I think we’ve got a chance, but the season just started, you know? Anything can happen.” Killian reaches his hand out and shakes the man’s hand. “Killian Jones. And you are?”

“Ben McKinley. This is my wife, Caroline. We’re here for my brother and his soon-to-be husband.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. Say, Ben, can you do us a favor and be a witness for us since your brother is in line behind us?”

His brows go to his hairline. “Are you two here to get married?”

“Aye, but I’m afraid we didn’t bring anyone with us. You’d be doing us a big favor.”

“We’d love to do that,” Caroline adds in. “And Ben and I promise to be discreet.”

“Well, if it does leak, we’ll know how to find you.” Emma slaps his shoulder until he turns around to look at her. “What?" 

“Did you just threaten them?" 

He winks. Absolutely not.

It takes thirty minutes before their names are called, and then, within a blink of an eye, the ceremony is being performed and he and Emma are saying “I do.”

He never thought two words would feel so damn good.

He also never thought he’d have to politely be asked to stop making out with his wife in a courthouse, but life is full of surprises.

_His wife._

It was all worth it. Every second of it. Of today. Of the past two years.

Everything.

“Hey, Jones,” Emma giggles as they walk out of the clerk’s office, hand in hand just like they’ve been for the past hour. They have new rings on their fingers, and he can’t stop running his thumb over Emma’s wedding band. He’s going to hate when they have to take them off, but it’s all worth it. “You do realize we’re still out of milk, right?”

His chuckle starts in his stomach and works its way all over his body, warming him more than the sun does. “Is that really what you’re focused on right now? Your cereal.”

“Oh, no,” Emma laughs, turning on her heels and wrapping her arms around his neck, “I was thinking of you making me brownies like you promised. I was also thinking of how much I love you.”

His hands settle on her hips. “What was winning in your mind? Your love for me or the brownies?”

“I feel like the answer will disappoint you.”

“Never.” Killian dips his head down and slants his lips over Emma’s, breathing her in. “I love you, even if you love brownies more than you love me.”

“Never,” Emma promises. “I think we’re going to have to run out of milk more often if it leads to days like this.”

  
  
“I think we’re also out of eggs.”

  
  
“Huh. Wonder what kind of trouble we’ll get into tomorrow when we go out to get the eggs.”

“Darling, I need eggs to cook the brownies. All this time, and you still don’t know basic recipes.”

Her smile is still the most brilliant he’s ever seen, and the blue is back in those green eyes of hers. “That’s what I have you for.”

  
  
“Ah, so that’s why you married me.”

“It’s one of the reasons.”

  
  
“What are the others?”  
  


“Take me home, and you’ll find out.”

“I thought you’d never ask.”


	2. Oh Baby

**March 2022.**

“These boxes are never going to get unpacked.”

“We could have hired someone, you know.”

“I’m not even working full-time right now. There’s no need for us to have hired someone when all I’m doing is sitting at home.”

“You go to meetings…on occasion.”

“I have a meeting tomorrow. Stop making that look on your face, twenty-nine.”

“There’s not a look on my face, besides a handsome one.”

Emma huffs and falls back against the wall, sinking down onto the ground and pulling her knees to her chest. They should have moved as soon as last season ended. It would have given them more time to unpack the ridiculous amount of stuff they somehow accumulated over the past three years, but there was a problem with the closing and then the plumbing, and they officially signed for this place two weeks into spring training. Killian had to fly back from Florida for the paperwork, spent one night in the house with her where all they had was their bed set up, and then he went straight back to the hell that is Florida humidity.

At least they’re not there for months at a time in the summer. Everyone would die. It’s bad enough when they’re in Tampa for a few days at a time.

(Then again, humidity in New York in the summer is no joke.)

She could have flown down and stayed with him, already has for a few days here and there, but they need to get settled before the season starts and things get insane. Things are really never _not_ insane, but there are definitely periods where there is a little more peace.

Off-season is undoubtedly her favorite season.

She loves baseball and the game and working almost every day, but having Killian home for months at a time and being able to sleep in their own bed instead of a hotel bed is so much better than anything else.

Emma definitely wants the off-season back.

And this house to be unpacked.

One of those things is more likely to happen than the other, and it’s not the house getting unpacked.

“I miss you,” Emma whispers into the phone.

“I miss you, love. You know you can fly down anytime, right? There’s nothing keeping you there. It’s been less than a week, but I miss you terribly.”

She flips the camera around to all of the boxes. “I don’t want to be living in chaos. I want, like, some kind of organization. I told myself that when I left my room key with you that I would not be flying back to Florida. I have to get this place functional.”

  
  
“I know we’ve been married for nearly a year, love, but I don’t think you should be turning into me quite this quickly with all of that talk of organization.”

  
  
“Technically, as far as everyone else knows, we’re only nine months into this whole marriage thing, so that’s not quite a year.”

“Specifics.”

  
  
“Ruby was over here yesterday helping me unpack and found the pictures from the clerk’s office. I’m pretty sure she figured us out.”

  
  
“I think David has known for awhile now.”

  
  
“Why do you think that?”

“Just a hunch.”

  
  
Emma groans and scoots further down on the floor. “If David knew, he would have said something.”

  
  
“Aye, you’re likely right.” Killian smiles, his face slightly pixilated. “Come see me this weekend, Swan. I know you said no more flights, but maybe just the one more. I’ll take you to dinner. Wine and dine you and all that.”

  
  
“I think there’s a third part of that proposition.”

Killian gasps and holds his hand to his chest. “Dirty.”

“You know it, twenty-nine.”

“I think you mean sixty-nine.”

“Oh my God.”

Killian chuckles and pushes his hair back. It’s too long again. He hasn’t gotten it cut in months, and as handsome as he looks, she’s desperately waiting for him to get it cut. Suggesting it hasn’t really worked out well for her, but if he likes it long, he likes it long. It’s not like she’d appreciate it if he told her to shave her legs or something like that.

“I’ve got to go to workouts, but I’ll call you again tonight, yeah?”

“I look forward to it. I love you.”

  
  
“And I you, my love.”

The video lingers for a moment, and then it disconnects, only the memory of Killian’s smile there.

She misses him like crazy. It’s ridiculous and stupid and kind of annoying. Maybe she should go down and see him this weekend. It’s not like she has this weekend. Spring training is almost over, and she could wait it out. She really could. That’s what she’s told herself she’ll do, but should she if she doesn’t have to? Maybe if she gets enough boxes unpacked.

Hell, maybe she should just cave and hire people to do it for her, but she put up such a dumb fight when Killian suggested it that she doesn’t want to admit to failure now. Not that he’d ever truly judge her for it.

Okay. He’d judge her a little bit.

Her phone buzzes in her hand.

Elsa: _You planning on letting me in?_

Shit. The doorbell didn’t sound, and Emma didn’t hear a knock at the door. Quickly, she stands from the ground and kicks a box to the side before hurrying down two sets of stairs to get to the front door. She loves having more space than the apartment, but she doesn’t love all of the stairs. At least, right now. Soon she’ll hopefully kick ass at being able to walk up and down them quickly.

Hopefully her ass will look fantastic because of it too.

Damn Manhattan and its lack of space.

“Hey,” Emma greets after unlocking the front door. “Did you ring the doorbell?”

“I did.”

“Well shit.” Emma leans forward and wraps her arms around Elsa. “I guess our doorbell is broken too. Do you know anything about electrical work?”

“I know how to hook up our cable, but that’s about it." 

“Then what good are you to me?”

“I bring you donuts.”

“Bless you.”

“I know.” Elsa steps inside, closing the door behind her, and immediately walks toward the kitchen where she puts down the bag of donuts she’s carrying and then immediately starts looking around the room. “Have you unpacked any of the kitchen?”

“A few things. Mostly things I use. It’s all Killian’s, and he hasn’t really been here to tell me where to put anything. I don’t know his system as well as I should.”

“Do you have silverware out? Plates and bowls?”

“I have a few things but not all of it.”

Elsa sighs and pulls her shorts up and then adjusts her t-shirt. She took the day off to help Emma unpack, and, really, she should be lounging around watching TV or something. “I don’t mean to go all mom on you, but grab a donut. We’re about to unpack your kitchen. Then we move to your bedroom and your closet so you can at least function. Everything else will come later.”

“As long as I get a donut, this all sounds good to me.”

“You can have another if you finish this room.”

“I’m good with a bribe.”

“Incentive. It makes it sound less dirty.”

Emma laughs. “Deal.”

Elsa is some kind of unpacking machine. It’s actually ridiculous. She knows exactly how to store everything in their cabinets and the pantry, and while Emma is sure Killian will rearrange it all when he realizes it’s not to his specifications, after three hours, they have all of the kitchen boxes emptied. It’s practically a miracle, and Emma didn’t even need an extra donut to make her do the work.

(An extra donut is sounding really good right now, though. Elsa got the good kind.)

All she really needed was Elsa. If they had Anna here, though, Emma imagines the entire house would be finished by now. Well, if Anna wasn’t eight months pregnant. Mary Margaret would probably be the better choice, but she’s got a class full of third-graders to attend to. Ruby, however, would bring everything to a halt because she’d get distracted by the things she was unpacking.

They move upstairs and back to the bedroom after they’re finished in kitchen, and Elsa sticks to the bedroom while Emma works in the closet. She’s got some of her clothes up, mostly her workout stuff, and even though their stuff is boxed in a way that should make it easy to hang up several things at once, Emma keeps getting distracted trying to organize it in a way that’s not something she’s going to sustain.

Seriously. Who is organized enough to keep things sorted by color?

Killian. Killian is. He organizes his freaking t-shirts by how old they are.

The weirdo.

Emma finally decides to just do it by type of clothing, and after she’s gotten all of her dresses on the racks, she decides that she needs some kind of break. She did not sleep last night, and no amount of coffee could wake her up.

Has she even had coffee today?

Or maybe she’s simply bored by having to unpack. That’s a lot of the same thing over and over again, and all Emma really wants to be doing is watching Netflix.

Slowly, she slides back down to the ground and pulls out her phone again, answering her texts and then clicking on Instagram to move away the notifications. It’s all stuff Killian has tagged her in, and she quickly moves through the videos and memes before clicking on his page. It’s been mostly baseball lately, pictures of him, Will, and Robin, but if she scrolls a little further back, there are pictures of Liam and Elsa or Addy and Lucy. And then there are pictures of her. She mostly uses social media for work, but she does like to get on and see what Killian has posted. It’s usually something she’s never seen, and there are at least ten pictures on here that she had no idea were taken.

There’s one in particular that she likes the most. It’s from last November. They were in Portland for Thanksgiving sitting on the swing in Ruth’s backyard, and Killian snapped a photo of her drinking coffee, the sun glinting off of her skin in just the right way so that she looked tanner than she actually was.

_My love forever,_ the caption reads.

That day had been…hard. It had been fucking awful, actually, but Killian had wrapped his arms around her and held her until it wasn’t so awful.

That’s what he does. He makes awful days feel that little bit better simply by being there.

She likes that, likes that she has that forever now.

_My love forever._

She has had that love for awhile with David and Ruth, with her friends too, and while she doesn’t like to put some relationships over others, Killian does get the slightest elevation.

It’s good to have all that love. It’s healthy, and if someone asked her twenty years ago if she’d ever have any of this, she would have laughed in their face.

She can’t stop staring at the photo and all of the memories behind it. She had been so sure that morning, and it wasn’t…she wasn’t.

“Hey, Emma, do you have – woah, what’s wrong?”

“What?” Emma sniffles, wiping below her eyes. “What makes you think something is wrong?”

“You’re sitting on the floor sniffling and wiping your eyes. Those are pretty big clues.”

Emma scoffs. “I’m fine.”

  
  
“You’re a liar.”

  
  
“Els, I’m fine.”

“I believe you about as much as I believe Killian when he says that.” Elsa walks over to her to and slides down onto the floor next to her, kicking away a shoe and grabbing onto Emma’s forearm. “You want to talk about whatever it is? You know you don’t have to, but I’m a good listener. I couldn’t be married to Liam if I wasn’t.”

“Liam does talk a lot.”

“I think it’s a Jones family trait.”

“I think I might be pregnant.”

She might have that trait too for the way she just blurted that out.

Elsa gasps, and Emma braces herself for it just like she braces herself for it every time this conversation comes up. She’s the one who brought it up this time, but it was kind of inevitable when this is honestly all she’s been thinking about for two days now.

For a little more than two days if she’s totally honest.

“I didn’t…I’m not,” Emma stutters, trying to continue talking before she shuts herself up, “I never thought I would be someone who wanted a baby. I thought I was going to be alone for so much of my life, so when Killian and I decided to try and kept having these negative tests, I don’t know. I, well, it sucks, and it’s been really damn hard. It hasn’t even been a long time, and we’re still so young. I probably shouldn’t even complain because I know it’s harder for other people. It’s just that a part of me feels like I’ve gotten so much good in my life I was never supposed to get. What if this is the thing I don’t get? What if I have this feeling in my gut now because it’s some kind of sign that I should give up before my hopes get too high?”

“Oh, darling,” Elsa sighs as she wraps her arm around Emma’s back and pulls her toward her, rubbing her hand up and down her arm, “you can’t think like that. The world doesn’t give you a certain amount of good and then just stop. You can have more good than you think you deserve. I do. And that feeling of helplessness when it comes to getting pregnant and it not working as fast as you want? I’ve had that too. It’s what happened with Lucy.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I thought maybe Addison was going to be it for us, and we were like you two. We hadn’t been trying for a long time, but it could still feel hopeless when Addison was so easy. Getting pregnant is hard, and unless you talk to others like this, there’s no way you’d know. All you’d see is the happy announcements and the smiles.”

Emma turns her head into Elsa’s shoulder. It’s a good thing she’s not wearing mascara because she’d totally ruin Elsa’s t-shirt.

“So I’m not some kind of freak show for sitting in my closet freaking out about this?”

“Emma, having a baby, or even the possibility of it, is the most terrifying thing in the world. If you weren’t having meltdowns, I’d be concerned about you.”

“This is so not in my wheelhouse,” Emma mumbles. “I talk for a living, talking about this is…different.”

“Baseballs and babies aren’t exactly in the same category.”

“They are on Family Day.”

  
  
“Yeah, well, you know what I mean.”

Emma huffs and pulls away from Elsa, leaning her head back against the wall. “This closet is still such a mess. My shoes are everywhere.”

“Oh, I know. I think I’m going to need to borrow those wedges that are caught up underneath the pile of Killian’s jerseys.”

“They are yours to borrow.”

“Not to keep?”

“Nah, I like them too much for that.”

Elsa laughs and twists on the ground until she’s facing Emma, small smile on her face. “You’re going to be okay. You and Killian both. And if you ever need to talk, Liam and I are always here. Anna too.”

“Anna is eight months pregnant with twins. All she does is warn people against getting pregnant. I don’t think she’s ever going to have sex again.”

“Can you blame her?”

“Absolutely not.”

Elsa claps her hands together. “Okay, let’s conquer this closet, and then I’m taking you home with me for dinner so you’re not left in this house stalking your husband’s Instagram.”

“I was not doing that.”

“You totally were. I could see it on your screen when I walked in.”

“I’m taking away your shoe privileges.”

Elsa quickly gets up and runs over to the wedges, picking them up. “Nope. They’re mine now.”

-/-

_She’s pregnant._

Or, at least, that’s what the three tests she took this morning said.

Emma had gone over to Liam and Elsa’s last night for dinner, and she’d forgotten about everything. She really had, and it had been nice not to think about it and to be able to know that her life was going to go on no matter what. She knew that. Logically, she did. Her life is not defined by what a pregnancy test says, but when it’s what you want…

When it’s what she and Killian want.

And they might get now.

Oh shit. She is not ready to give birth.

That’s not even happening right now, or in the near future, but it’s going to happen. Emma’s pretty sure it’s some kind of torture device designed to make being a woman even more difficult, but she’s got to stop thinking of that right now.

What she’s got to start thinking about is the fact that she’s in New York while Killian is in Florida.

Florida.

Shit. She’s got to book a flight to Florida.

She said she wasn’t going to do it, but that was before she knew for sure.

That was before.

Where the hell is her neck pillow?

Emma gets off the rim of the tub and walks into the bedroom, grabbing her laptop off the charger and stretching out on the bed while trying to find the next flight. There are a few this afternoon, but she’s got meetings she can’t cancel. There’s one she might be able to make around seven, though, and she quickly enters her information and books a one-way ticket.

She’s never been so excited to go to Florida.

-/-

“Can I get an extra key to room 835?”

“And your name is?”

“Emma Jones.”

The receptionist starts typing on her keyboard, looking up at Emma and then looking back at her computer, her brows furrowed. “I’m sorry. There’s not an Emma Jones in that room.”

“I know. It’s my husband’s room. It’s under his name. Killian Jones. It should be under the block of rooms for the Yankees.”

“Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I can’t give you a key to that room. It’s our policy, especially when it comes to our VIP guests in our suites. It’s for their safety.”

Emma has to fight the urge to roll her eyes. She’s exhausted. It’s been a long ass day, she sat next to someone who snored the entire flight down here, and all she wants to do is see Killian. Why the hell did she leave her key with Killian last week?

Oh, yeah, because she wasn’t supposed to come back.

“If I was some kind of stalker, how would I know his room number?”

“You would be surprised what people know.”

She sighs and pulls out her phone, clicking on Ariel’s name.

“Emma?”

“Ariel, can you get me an extra key to Killian’s room?”

“Are you here?” Ariel squeals before quieting. “Wait.” There’s a mumble and then the sound of a chair squeaking before Ariel’s voice comes back into focus. “Sorry. We’re out at dinner, and I had to move away from the table. This is a surprise, right?”

“Mhm.”

“That is literally the sweetest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“You need to hear more things.”

“Oh, hush. I’ll call the front desk. We’ve got to be back soon anyways because I have to relieve the babysitter for Morgan, so it won’t be too long.”

“That sounds perfect. I’ll probably see you tomorrow, okay?”

“I can’t wait, and I promise that my lips are sealed.”

They hang up, and the front desk’s phone immediately rings. The receptionist nods and smiles and is completely and totally nice to Ariel, typing in a few things on her computer as she avoids eye contact with Emma. Then the conversation is over and Emma is being handed a card.

“This works for both the elevator and the room. Have a nice night, Mrs. Jones.”

“Thanks,” Emma says, forcing a smile. She knows the woman was just doing her job, but it doesn’t keep her from being annoyed. She’s not about to be pissy with her though. “Have a good night.”

Grabbing her luggage, she maneuvers out of the lobby and to the elevator. She knows this hotel better than any other hotel in the country from how much she’s stayed here, and she easily makes her way up to Killian’s room, sliding the card in the door and sighing in relief that the clerk actually gave her a key that worked. She was worried that she wouldn’t.

Killian’s suite is clean, and Emma knows it’s not just because of housekeeping. The man is so damn particular about everything, and even though all she wants to do is curl up in bed and go to sleep, she opens up her suitcase and starts putting her few clothes away, making sure not to mess with any of Killian’s stuff. It’s what he would end up doing later anyways, and if she does it now, it’ll be one less thing he’ll have to focus on.

How the hell is she supposed to tell him that she’s pregnant?

That’s something she should have focused on for the flight down here, but all she could think about was how much she wanted to murder the man who was snoring next to her.

She’s going to be great at the whole getting no sleep thing.

Did she really want this? Did they? Are they crazy? What drives someone to want to have a baby? Yeah, they’re cute, but then they grow up and yell at you for telling them not to eat straight sugar for dinner. And she didn’t have parents. Well, she has Ruth, but she didn’t have Ruth for fifteen years. Killian’s mom died, and his dad is a piece of shit. What do either of them know about babies and being parents?

What do either of them know about kids in general?

Well, they do have nieces and nephews and friends with kids. Hell, their friends have had so many kids. It’s like in the past two years all anyone has done is pop a kid out and –

The door to the suite beeps, and Emma doesn’t even realize she’s been pacing for a long time until Killian’s standing right in front of her blinking with his mouth wide open.

“Hi,” Emma squeaks out.

It’s official. She is not herself today.

“Fucking hell,” Killian mumbles.

“Well, that’s always the greeting a girl – ”

Killian strides forward and cups her cheeks before pulling her to him with his mouth, sucking on her bottom lip before he starts moving and can’t seem to stop. It’s been less than a week. That’s all. It hasn’t even been that long since they’ve been apart. They make it a point to never go more than nine days, but she’s missed him more than she ever has.

Melodramatic and all that.

“What,” he starts, still kissing her, “are,” he continues as his lips move to her jaw, “you,” he sighs against her cheek, “doing,” he whispers against her eyelid, “here?” he finishes as his lips find hers once more while their foreheads rest against each other.

“I really missed Scarlet.”

Killian tilts his head back and barks out a laugh as his hands move from her cheeks to her biceps, squeezing them. Her stomach is absolutely swirling.

“God, I love you. You’re – ” He shakes his head, and his eyes crinkle. He’s gotten darker during training, and there’s the slightest tan line from where he’ll wear his hat backwards during pitching drills outside.

“I’m what?”

“Well, if I were to list all of the things you are, I imagine we’d be standing here forever.”

Emma scoffs and pushes at his chest before moving closer once more so she can wrap her arms around his neck. “Why are you the way that you are?”

“Charming? I believe I was born this way.”

It’s Emma’s turn to shake her head at him. She presses up on her toes and lingers until her breath is ghosting over his mouth. “I love you, twenty-nine.”

“Good. I love you, Swan.”

She finally kisses him then, and Killian slowly backs her up to the bed until she’s falling down on top of it. All thoughts leave her mind as his lips and his hands move over her, and they truly disappear when his mouth is between her thighs and all she can think is how damn good that feels. It almost always does, like some kind of magic that’s bottled between the two of them, and even when it’s not good, Emma knows that there’s no one she’d rather get lockjaw or really unfortunate cramps with.

And weirdly, as Killian swivels his hips and hits just the right rhythm, she knows that no matter how much she’s freaking out about everything, the two of them have got this.

“Did you know the front-desk clerk thought I was a stalker?” Emma asks later. They haven’t changed back into any clothes, and Emma can’t seem to stop twirling Killian’s chest hair around her fingers while his hand dances across her back, tracing familiar words there.

“Really now?”

“Mhm. I tried to get a room key, and she refused to give me one.”

“Ah, well, I have been having an influx of stalkers lately. It must be my devilishly good looks.”

“You’re never lacking in confidence, are you? Even when it comes to joking about something that’s not funny.”  
  


“You would know more than anyone how that isn’t true.”

Emma leans down to kiss his chest before resting her chin there. The air conditioner clicks on, and a cold rush of air runs over Emma’s bare skin. Killian tugs the comforter up over a little more of her back, and they sit in silence as Emma starts counting how fast her heart is beating. If she doesn’t tell him tonight, she won’t sleep. It’ll eat at her until the morning, and with how exhausted she is from not sleeping two nights in a row, she really can’t afford another night without sleep.

She also hasn’t had coffee in days. That has sucked.

“Killian, I – ”

She stops when his finger traces her name into her back. “What is it, love?”

“Nothing,” Emma begins, even if she knows it’s everything. “It’s just…Killian, I’m pregnant.”

For the rest of her life she’ll remember that Killian stopped blinking for a few seconds too long. She’ll remember that his eyes are slightly red-rimmed from his own lack of sleep, and she’ll remember the way that slowly but surely his lips curl from a small smile to one of the brightest she’s ever seen from him.

“Are you? For real? I’m not imagining this conversation?”

Emma inhales and nods. “I think so. I wouldn’t be far along. Like, at all, so anything could happen. But my period is late, and I took, like, three tests this morning that were positive. Peeing on a stick never feels normal.”

Killian chuckles as his free hand comes around to tuck her hair behind her ear. He’s so gentle like that, and she doesn’t know what she did to deserve him. He can be hot-headed and impatient and ready to act on his anger instead of thinking it through, but at his core, Killian Jones is a good man.

“Aye, I imagine not.”

He leans down to glide his lips over hers, and even if Emma had imagined what it would be like to tell Killian they better start reading all of those books so they have some clue what they’re doing, she knows none of it would be better than this.

Calm and content and like they were always supposed to end up here.

“I love you, Swan,” Killian whispers as his hand shifts from her back to her stomach. “I don’t – thank you for being by my side for all of this.”

  
  
“Always, twenty-nine. Always.”


	3. Wedding Belles

**December 7 th, 2019**

“Damn, Swan.”

Emma turns on her heels to find Killian standing in the entryway of his bedroom. Or their bedroom. She doesn’t know, and she really shouldn’t keep mentally correcting herself. Their living situation is what it is, and not a soul in the world knows how to define it.

They should probably talk about it before she has to sign her lease next month.

Or, well, not sign her lease. 

She still has no idea what she’s doing with this whole thing.

Except being impressed by how well Killian cleans up.

“I could say the same thing to you.”

He’s dressed in his black tux already, the only thing missing the jacket and the bowtie. Though, she’s not going to complain about that. She likes the suspenders and unbuttoned shirt look. And Killian hates being buttoned up, so she imagines that as soon as the ceremony is over, he’ll return to this look.

Good. That’s good. This is a good look.

“Oh, no. You can’t say that when you look like this.” He waves his hand in front of him before stepping into the room. “I didn’t know someone could wear long sleeves and still have so much cleavage showing.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, looking down at the deep neck of her dress and the floral overlay of her black dress. Okay, so maybe he’s right, but this dress makes her boobs look amazing. Who is she to pass up wearing something like that? “A coat is about to go over this, and I’m going to be majorly bundled up. So take a look at the boobs now, Jones.”

“Is that not what I was already doing?”

Her boyfriend is an idiot.

She loves him a frankly ridiculous amount.

“Aren’t you going to be late? Isn’t there supposed to be some groomsmen bonding going on?”

“Aye,” Killian answers as his head dips down so his lips can press against the side of her neck. He’s a smart man to know not to touch her face, but she really, absolutely wishes that he would. “I’m going to leave in a few minutes, but I wanted to see you first. I heard your boobs were going to be covered up later, and I couldn’t pass up on the opportunity to see them. You cut quite the figure in that dress, love.”

“You’re the worst,” she mumbles, biting her lip. She might as well kiss him if she’s going to mess up her makeup like that. “I will take the coat off when we’re at the reception, so you are free to go so you don’t piss Will off.”

He bites at her neck before moving up to her ear, and a shiver runs down her spine and curls between her thighs. “Am I not allowed to piss Will off? It’s so much fun.”

“Not today, twenty-nine. Let him have today.”

“You only say this because you have a soft spot for Scarlet.”

“So do you.”

“Eh, debatable.” Killian nips at her ear one more time before pulling back, his smile so big that his eyes crinkle. “You look beautiful, sweetheart. Are you sure you don’t want to come to the venue early?”

“David and Mary Margaret are going to pick me up on their way.”

“Let me know when you get there, yeah?”

“You know what I’m wearing. I think you’ll be able to find me.”

Killian chuckles and pulls back from her, trailing his hand down the back of her arm. “That I will.”

Killian winks before he turns around, walking away from her with a sway of his hips that’s absolutely ridiculous. He’s in a good mood today. Hell, he’s been in a good mood for a month now, riding on some kind of ridiculous World Series win high. She gets it. She’s been doing the same thing. Well, maybe not quite so much because she still has to work in the office while he simply has to workout at home, but it’s been nice.

Now that it’s December and all of New York is decked out for Christmas, Emma thinks he might have lost his mind. She thought she knew Killian more than well, but she somehow missed out on how excited he was going to be about Christmas. Or, really, the holidays in general. At Thanksgiving, he might as well have been walking around on actual rays of sunshine, and seeing him this happy has been great. It’s been a year full of deep lows and incredible highs, but it’s going to end on a good note.

She can feel it.

Off-season might just be Emma’s favorite season.

(That could also be a part of the World Series high and the frankly ridiculous amount of sex they’ve had now that most of their days involve staying at home, but she’s only chalking it up to it being part of how relaxing it’s been.

The other part is simply having Killian around more and there being no travel involved.)

She’s not anywhere ready for it to be over, so it’s a good thing they have some more time.

-/-

The ceremony is beautiful.

Emma knew that it would be. She’s listened to Belle and Will plan this wedding pretty much since the day she met Belle, and while a lot of it is definitely to the specifications of Belle’s parents, it’s still very Will and Belle.

And all that really matters is that they get to stand up in front of all of the people they love – and some people they probably don’t care about – and commit to each other. Will is only a few years younger than her, is still practically a baby in her eyes, and it kind of feels like her little brother is getting married.

When the hell did those feelings happen?

Probably on the floor of a hallway as Emma sobbed next to a pair of vending machines because her entire life was falling apart, and Will was there to pick up the pieces.

“Are you crying?”

“What? No,” Emma says, turning to David.

“I meant Mary Margaret,” David corrects before leaning over to look at his wife. “Sweetheart, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Mary Margaret sniffles. “You know that I cry at every wedding. Don’t make fun of me.”

“I was not going to make fun of you.”

  
  
“David, we have been together for fifteen years. You make fun of me at every wedding.”

“I just think that it’s funny that you cry at every wedding, but you didn’t cry at ours.”

“Wait,” Emma laughs, “you didn’t cry at your own wedding?”

Mary Margaret slides down in her chair. “It was a busy day, okay? I didn’t even have a moment to breathe. I was obviously overwhelmed with joy because I was marrying the love of my life, but no, I didn’t cry at my actual wedding.”

  
  
Emma laughs, but she tries to cover it up. This is obviously something David brings up at every wedding, and she should not be laughing at it. She really shouldn’t, but Mary Margaret cries at everything. Legitimately everything. Emma can’t imagine that Mary Margaret didn’t cry once at her own wedding.

“You laugh now, but wait until it’s your wedding day. See if you have time to cry.”

  
  
“Well, uh, that’s not…that’s not really a bridge we’ll have to cross anytime soon.”

“I would hope not. Killian hasn’t asked for my blessing yet.”

  
  
Emma reaches over and slaps David’s shoulder. “I’m pretty sure if Killian and I were to get married, he wouldn’t have to ask for your blessing. We’re adults in the twenty-first century. We can make our own decisions.”

  
  
“I know that, but – ”

“Swan,” Killian interrupts. David’s cheeks go absolutely red, and Emma tries not to laugh at him. That’s what he gets for trying to be all old-fashioned on her.

Killian keeps walking over to them, moving away from all of the people who are trying to leave from the ceremony and walk downstairs to the reception. Ruby and Graham already left, deciding not to wait on the crowd, but Emma told Killian she’d wait in her seat for him since it’ll be crazy down in the ballroom even with Belle’s mom’s highly specific seating chart.

(Emma still thinks seating charts are the worst.)

“Why is Dave blushing?”

“Mary Margaret is making fun of him for crying,” Emma lies, standing from her seat and smoothing down her dress. “It’s a long story.”

His brow arches. “How is that a long story?”

“You don’t want to know.” Emma steps around her chair to stand next to Killian and threads her fingers with his. He squeezes before bringing her knuckles to his lips. “You ready to go? I hear we get to sit next to the cranky pregnant lady at the reception.”

  
  
“I might have switched the cards around.”  
  


Emma laughs and shakes her head. “You did not.”  
  


“Oh, no, I did. I’m so bloody tired of hearing about the seating chart that I changed it all at the last minute.”

  
  
“That would be a major asshole move.”

“It would definitely get me murdered by the entire French family.”

“True.” Emma reaches up and straightens Killian’s bowtie. “Is this thing driving you crazy?”

“You have no idea.”

They walk down to the reception ballroom, joining the droves of people who are already there, and they quickly find their seats, joining everyone else who was in the wedding party. They took all of the group photos beforehand, so everyone but Will and Belle are here.

“I am starving,” Ariel whines. “I need, like, two plates of everything.”

  
  
“You know you’re only supposed to eat three hundred extra calories. You’re not supposed to actually eat two meals.”

“Eric, I will murder you. This is your fault.”

  
  
“How is it my fault?”

“Because we – ”

“Just let your wife eat the two meals,” Robin groans. “It’s easier that way, and Ariel has been working her ass off while finding out she was pregnant. She deserves a break.”

“Amen, especially since I was not supposed to be pregnant for, like, two more years.”

“Thank you, darling, for telling everyone our life plan.”

Ariel waves Eric away. “Killian already knew it wasn’t planned.”

“How did Killian know it wasn’t planned?”

“We talk.”

Killian laughs next to her as his thumb runs over her knuckles. “Protection is important, mate. Do we need to get Al to give some kind of sex ed class for us?”

“Al would punch you in the face if you suggested that.”

“It might be worth it.”

“I think it might already be too late,” August snickers.

“Not for you,” Robin murmurs under his breath. “We’re both sitting at this table because neither of us brought dates and there was room.”

“You realize you just roasted both of us, right?”

Robin shrugs, a smile on his face. “Sometimes you have to take one for the team.”

Killian’s finger taps against her hand, and Emma looks down at her lap before looking over at him. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“It’s nothing,” he repeats, leaning over to brush his lips against the shell of her ear. “I’m simply glad that you’re here with me.”

“Yeah,” Emma sighs, “me too.”

The food eventually gets served, much to Ariel’s satisfaction, and it is really good. It’s not hot dogs and concession stand food like they joked about, but it’s definitely better than any kind of concession stand hot dog. And maybe, just maybe, everyone here needs to move away from sweaty clothes and junk food for a night and do something on the slightly more refined scale for a change.

As if any of them have stepped inside of that stadium in the past month.

Except for the World Series celebrations.

They’d all happily walk back in there to do that again.

Hopefully one day.

That’s really not what any of them are focused on right now anyways.

Will and Belle make their way into the hall eventually, the entire room clapping for them before they have their first dance and then settle down to eat their food even though people keep interrupting them to talk. Emma’s got a perfect vantage point of their table and keeps looking up and over at them without meaning to. Will is not the most physically affectionate guy unless the occasion calls for it, but with Belle, he’s different. There’s something sweet and especially sentimental about that, and maybe Emma is a bit of a romantic somewhere deep down.

Or much closer to the surface than she’s willing to admit.

It’s a lot easier when she’s not in a relationship where the other person has betrayed her in some kind of awful, monumental way.

Tonight is probably not the night to be having those kind of thoughts.

Soon the food starts to dwindle and the playful arguments around the table die down, even when Liam and Elsa pull up a set of chairs and join in on teasing Killian over the absolutely awful tan lines he has on his back from when they went to California last month. He’d applied his suntan lotion in uneven streaks, and now he’s got these awful strips that are a different color than the rest of his skin.

“It’s December in New York. I can’t exactly even out it out.”

  
  
“You could go to a tanning salon.”

“Those are literally beds of death, so I’d rather not.”

“He’s right,” Liam adds in. “None of you should be going to those unless it’s for a spray tan.”

“What kind of spray tan do you get, Liam?” Emma teases.

“This glow is natural. Don’t be jealous.”  
  


Emma huffs and releases Killian’s hand before getting up from the table, excusing herself to go to the restroom and then to get another glass of wine for her and some more rum for Killian. A few people have already made their way to the dancefloor while others stay standing at the dessert table or the bar, but she’s easily able to move around them until she’s back in the bathrooms, which are surprisingly empty.

Probably because this is a ridiculously large space and there’s more than one bathroom.

She has got to stop thinking about the bathrooms.

They have really nice lighting that makes her makeup look fantastic though.

After reapplying her lipstick and moving away a speck of mascara, Emma leaves the bathroom and turns the corner to head to the bar only to nearly run into Will.

“You trying to push me down?”

“That was obviously my intention.” Emma reaches forward and wraps her arms around Will’s shoulders before kissing his cheek. “Congratulations, Will.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. Though, I don’t appreciate you getting your red lipstick all over my cheek. Wouldn’t want my wife to get jealous.”

“Belle doesn’t have a jealous bone in her body.”

“Let a man dream for a moment.”

Emma scoffs and pulls back before reaching up and rubbing her finger against his cheek to remove some of her lipstick. She’s going to have to reapply it again. “Who am I keeping you from? Why are you over here?”

“I was sent to get drinks, and since I’ve been stuck talking to Belle’s uncle for the past fifteen minutes, Belle decided I deserved a break.”

“That much fun, huh?”

Will chuckles and shakes his head. “Listen. This is the greatest day of my life, but I wouldn’t at all have minded it just being Belle and me and our closest friends.”

The song changes, and Emma glances to the side to see everyone slow down, some people filtering off the dance floor while others move forward.

“Go get your drinks, Scarlet. Then get Belle and go dance so you don’t have to keep talking to people you want to talk to. It’s your day. Who gives a shit about pleasing other people?”

“And that’s exactly why I like you.”

Emma laughs and reaches forward to squeeze Will’s forearm only for Killian to show up behind Will, clapping his hand down on Will’s shoulder. “If you don’t mind, I think I’m going to steal Emma away from you.”

“Please,” Will laughs. “She’s been driving me insane, and I’m supposed to be getting drinks.”

“Funny, so is Emma.”

“Hey,” she laughs, “I was going to after I went to the bathroom. Then I got distracted by Will.”

“It’s my face. It’s distracting. Only in the best ways, of course.”

“I’m glad you clarified because I’m sure Killian would have made a joke.”

Killian fake gasps and places his hand over is chest. “I would never.”

“You would.”

His eyes roll, but then he smiles, stepping around Will and reaching forward to grab Emma’s hand. How is his hand so impossibly warm when it’s approximately eighteen degrees outside?

“Let’s leave Will to get back to his bride, yeah?”

“What about drinks?”

“We can get those later.”

And then he’s gently pulling her across the room until they’re at the edge of the dance floor, mixing in with the other couples while also staying just close enough that they can slip away at any time. It’s Killian’s go-to move at events, and she is all here for it.

Emma wraps her arms around Killian’s shoulders, fingers threading into his hair, and his hands find their place on her hips as they sway back and forth, careful not to step on each other’s toes. Killian probably wanted to do an actual dance, but she needs a few more drinks in her for that.

“This is nice,” he whispers after a few moments of silence while the band plays Van Morrison.

  
  
“Mhm,” she hums, resting her head on his shoulder.

“I like the idea of something like this, all of your loved ones around you, celebrating you find a partner.”

She thinks of what Will said earlier, of what she’s always thought too.

  
  
“Your loved ones and all of your parents’ friends and coworkers.”

  
  
Killian huffs and tugs her a little closer. “Well, that’s a good point. Not to be morbid, but we wouldn’t really have to worry about that.”

Emma’s heartrate picks up. She knows why. She does. It has absolutely nothing to do with Killian pointing out the fact that he doesn’t have parents and she only has Ruth. “No, I guess we wouldn’t.”

  
  
“We’d have to invite the entire roster, though. Most of management, too”

“Except King.”

  
  
“Fuck King. I’ve heard he might be leaving anyway.”

She huffs and pulls back from Killian’s shoulder to look him in the eyes. With her heels, they’re almost the same height, and it’s easy to gently press forward so her lips move against his.

“Jones, I love you, but I’m not sure I’m ready to be planning such specifics about this hypothetical wedding.”

“What? We don’t even officially live together and you’re not ready to plan our wedding? That’s ridiculous.”

Everyone’s really pulling out all of the punches tonight.

(She only minds a little.)

(She doesn’t mind at all when it’s Killian.)

“Oh my God. Was this basically a roundabout way of us talking about our living situation?”

  
  
“I figured it was better than planning a hypothetical wedding.” He leans forward and lightly brushes his lips across her cheek. His whiskers prick at her skin, and a shiver runs down her spine that has nothing to do with the cold. “Ruby may have mentioned that you’d have to re-sign your lease next month.”

“Did she now?”

  
  
“Aye.”

“And how would you feel,” Emma whispers as her finger trails along the back of Killian’s neck, “if I didn’t re-sign my lease?”

“Well, I feel like you might then be without a home,” Killian sighs as his lips tick up into a smile that has her heart pounding that little bit faster. “Move in with me, my love. Officially. We’ll figure out the rest from there.”

She absolutely cannot believe they’re having this conversation at Will and Belle’s wedding.

Then again, she can.

It’s definitely on track for them if she’s honest with herself.

And really, she wouldn’t want to have it any other way. It’s much better than her having to start this conversation over breakfast or something. They apparently can’t do anything in a conventional way.

“Are you going to give me space in the fridge?”

His brows rise to his hairline. “You have space.”

  
  
“I have a shelf.”

“You don’t cook.”  
  


“That’s beside the point.”  
  


Killian chuckles and squeezes her hips before lightly pressing his lips to hers. He’s trying to avoid her lipstick still, but there’s the slightest bit of red when he pulls back. It’s been steadily growing darker this entire night. “You’ve already taken over my closet and my bathroom. I have far too many blankets and pillows in my living room. I guess I can give you more space in the refrigerator that you don’t use.”

“Oh, that’s the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“I try.”

Emma’s hand falls to Killian’s bare collarbone, finger moving against the bare skin. His bowtie is in his pants pocket now, and it’ll likely never see the light of day again. His skin is warm to the touch, and her fingers search for something to touch, his chest hair a little too far away. Sometimes she misses being able to play with the chain around his neck, feeling the cool metal, but she wouldn’t change him giving it to her.

She apparently wouldn’t change a lot of things.

“I would love to officially move in with you, twenty-nine. Though, I don’t think anything is going to change.”

“That sounds perfect.”

“Yo, Jones,” Will calls out over the microphone, stopping the music, “it’s time for your speech.”

Killian’s eyes crinkle as his mouth opens up with his smile. His teeth look ridiculously white in these lights. She’s spent far too much time thinking about how handsome he is this evening, but she doesn’t think anyone in this room would blame her. “Do you think he’ll kill me if I tell the story of letting him throw up in my lap so he didn’t throw up in Will’s?”

“You’ve been planning on telling that story since before they even got engaged. Plus, Will told me that story about seeing your bare ass the first time you met. It’d only be fair.”

Killian winks. “I don’t really plan on changing my speech now. I’ve got notecards.”


	4. Hey Jones, you suck! (no you don't)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: How about showing them during and/or after the Yankee’s crappy 2020 season? As I’m not a Yankees fan (no, not even your lovely story could convert me!) I would enjoy some bad season angst with a heaping side of comfort coming from Emma. Thanks for considering!

**June 2020**

“What the hell is wrong with all of you?” Al yells, throwing his clipboard down onto the ground. “Scarlet can’t hit, Fisher can’t catch a fucking ball because he’s too worried his wife is going to go into labor, and Jones has forgotten that the ball has to go over the plate! These are simple parts of the game! A five-year-old in Little League knows this!”

The locker room is silent except for the sound of uniforms being stripped off and feet shuffling across the floor. Al’s breathing is heavy, his chest heaving, and while Killian’s already showered and gone through his post-game routine, all he wants to do is go back out on the field and practice his pitches again.

That won’t screw up his shoulder or anything.

They’re losing a series against the Orioles.

They’ve owned the Orioles for his entire career. Hell, last year they barely lost a game to them. They were shutting them out and getting a ridiculous amount of runs, and now they can’t seem to string together two good plays against them.

Then again, that’s been happening against everyone.

This is the season from hell, and Killian has had some pretty shitty seasons before.

Coming down from the high of back-to-back World Series wins isn’t exactly the easiest thing in the world when they don’t even look like the same team they were when they won those Series. 

To be fair, King is gone. He’s with the Cardinals now, and Killian never thought he’d miss that asshole. He doesn’t. He treated Emma like shit, and Killian was constantly ready to knock his front teeth out, but he was a damn fine ball player.

He doesn’t want King back, not really, but a part of him thinks even Emma would take King being back in her vicinity if he could help them win a few more games.

“I’m in Maryland, and my wife is back in New York a week past her due date. I’m allowed to fucking worry,” Eric growls as he slams a t-shirt against the ground.

“You’re supposed to be focused on the ballgame and nothing else out there. We’re getting fucking embarrassed!”

“Hey,” Robin interrupts, standing from his locker and running his hand through his hair. “I get that we suck, Coach, and that you’re pissed. Trust me, we’re all pissed. But telling Eric he can’t worry about his wife and his kid is a load of shit.”

Al groans, placing his hands on his hips and looking up at the ceiling while his foot taps. He’s usually level-headed. He can get angry and upset, but it’s never been this bad. It’s never been him getting into their personal lives, and Killian can’t quite believe Rob is having to stand up and try to calm Al down.

What the hell is wrong with them?

“Do you guys know what’s being written about us? Half of it is articles about how we’re suddenly shitty at baseball and the other half of it is your personal lives. If I’m asked to give another statement on where Jones took his girlfriend to dinner or to comment on pictures of her in her bikini at the beach, I’m going to lose my goddamn mind.”

There’s a round of whistles across the locker room, and Killian really should have left as soon as his PT was over.

“Al,” he grits out, “I understand your frustration, but I suggest you hold your tongue. If there’s anyone in this room who should understand to tread carefully when talking about Emma, it’s you.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

  
  
“Aye, but that doesn’t mean I’m not going to get pissed off. I hate more than anyone that the only news about his team is how much we suck and my personal life, but that’s how it is right now. We’re not as good as we have been, and the other teams are better. Doing what we’re doing obviously isn’t going to cut it, and I don’t think making us all hate each other is going to make it any better.”

“You’ve got balls saying that to Al,” Will mutters under his breath as his knee hits against Killian’s.

“I’ve been putting up with this shit with Emma for a year and a half from everyone else. I’m not going to hear it from our coach. My personal life is none of anyone’s damn business.”

“Just go to the hotels” Al finally sighs. “I don’t know what to do or how to fix this, and apparently, none of you are going to let me yell at you tonight. Be at practice at ten. If you’re late, you’re running the field.”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Will salutes only to get stared down by half the locker room.

The team spirit is obviously alive and well tonight.

“Do you guys want to get dinner?” Will asks as they walk out of the clubhouse hours later, warm downs done and press conferences unfortunately suffered though. They’re walking down the hallway to get to the loading bays so they can take a car back to the hotel, and Killian has no interest in going out for dinner.

“I want to get back to the hotel and call Ariel,” Eric sighs. “I honestly keep expecting to get a call that she’s at the hospital and that I need to be at the airport.”

“We’ll be home tomorrow,” Robin assures him. “If I know Ariel, she won’t have that kid before you get home.”

“As the only other man here with a child, I feel like you should know that’s not how it works.”

Robin chuckles. “You can hope.”

“I’m going to order in for dinner,” Killian says. “You can come to my room and do the same if you want.”

  
  
Will actually snorts at that. “And spend more time with you when you’ve lost a game and someone has talked shit about your girlfriend? That’s like asking to be tortured.”

“Shut it, Scarlet.”

  
  
“I only speak the truth.”

  
  
“I think we all need a break from each other.” Robin opens up the door of the van that’s waiting on them. “After we share this ride.”

-/-

Emma’s on her laptop when he gets back to the hotel room. She’s already changed out of what she was wearing earlier, is in her pajamas, and has her makeup wiped off, and he knows better than to bother her while she’s writing her article on the game to the network. They’ve got her running circles and jumping through hoops this season as some kind of sick test to make sure she can handle being promoted to a regular in-booth commentator.

It’s fucking ridiculous. Of course she can handle it. She doesn’t need to run up extra reports and think pieces on top of working on the field and traveling full time with the team in order to prove herself when she’s already proven herself time and time again.

She’s doing more work now than she would ever do once she’s up in that booth.

This is not how this season was supposed to go. It was supposed to be better than this.

It was supposed to be better than the both of them running themselves far past their personal limits and still coming up short.

At least his arm doesn’t hurt.

Killian doesn’t believe in jinxes and superstitions, but thoughts like that should probably stay far away from his mind if he doesn’t want to get injured again. With all of the people watching him like a hawk, it’s not like he’d be able to hide it even if he wanted to.

He’s definitely learned that lesson.

Quietly, he puts his bag down on the table in the entryway of the room and goes into the bathroom in order to brush his teeth and wash his face. He wants to shave, but he didn’t bring his razor. Dammit. That’s all he really wants to do right now, to have some kind of control over something, anything.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out.

**Liam:** Addison wants you to know that she is not mad at you for losing.

**Killian:** So she’s lying to me now?

**Liam:** Oh, absolutely. She’s genuinely upset. We’ve got to get her a new hobby.

**Killian:** I think she’d be brilliant at soccer. I’m surprised she’s not already in a league.

**Liam:** We’ve got her signed up for the fall league.

**Liam:** You okay?

Killian huffs and turns the water in the sink off after splashing his face one more time.

**Killian:** I’m fine. Tired. Pissed off at how I played.

**Liam:** Fine and pissed off aren’t exactly the same.

**Killian:** I’m pissed off BUT fine.

**Killian:** It’s late. You should go to bed. I’ll call tomorrow before we fly home.

**Liam:** Don’t beat yourself up about any of it. I love you. Addy loves you, too.

**Killian:** I love you both.

Sighing, Killian opens the bathroom door and walks back into the hotel room, tugging his t-shirt off, tossing his phone onto the couch, and then grabbing the room service menu before laying down on the bed next to Emma.

“Have you eaten dinner, Swan?”

“I had a salad earlier.”

“You mean the salad we had at lunch?”

Emma’s brows furrow together, and she keeps on typing. “I’m not really sure. I had a salad at some point. I’m fine.”

Killian groans and reads through the menu before picking up the hotel phone and calling down for a plate of their grilled chicken rice with a side of steamed vegetables. It’s not at all what he wants, and when he orders to basket of fries that he tells himself is for Emma, he knows that he’ll end up eating them as well. It’s late, though, and the kitchen isn’t staffed as much as it usually is, so the man on the other end of the line tells him it could be anywhere between thirty minutes and an hour.

If he hadn’t eaten a little in the locker room, he’d probably bitch and moan over the wait team. He gets the wait. He does. He’s not about to complain over people trying their best, but damn what he would give for something other than a package of crackers to eat.

Emma keeps working, and Killian turns on the TV, putting it on mute as he flips through the channels. There are baseball games on what seems like every other one, but he eventually settles on some action movie he doesn’t know the name of and watches it in silence to the sound of Emma’s fingers clicking against the keyboard.

What a banner day.

Suddenly, Emma’s laptop clicks closed, and she places it on the foot of the bed before turning to him and placing her knees on either side of his thighs while her nails curl into his biceps and her lips move over the side of his neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses.

_Fuck, that feels fantastic._

She’s like magic when she’s like this, her lips heaven and the feel of her pressing down on top of him something even better, and Killian wraps his arm around her back as his hand sneaks up underneath her tank top while the other presses into the back of her thigh. He bloody loves when she sleeps in the pajama shorts like this, the material barely covering her skin.

Her mouth is hot against his neck and flames flicker down his spine as Emma keeps working his skin, nibbling before soothing the spots with her tongue, and when he palms her ass through her shorts, she rolls her hips into his like she’s trying to kill him with how good that feels.

“Are you trying to kill me, love?” he rasps as her tongue circles around the shell of his ear. He can feel his cock twitching in his sweatpants, and while he’s doing his best to ignore it, he can’t help but jut his hips up into hers for some friction.

“No.”

“Something damn near close then.”

Emma laughs into his ear as she rolls her hips over his, and she really is trying to kill him. He’s fine with letting her succeed tonight.

“Take off your pants, twenty-nine.”

“Well, when you say it like that…”

Emma pulls back from him and looks into his eyes. “What? Do you not want to?”

He juts his hips up into hers again. God, that friction feels good, but it’s not enough. “I very obviously want to.”

“Then what is it?”

  
  
“It’s nothing.”

  
  
“What? Are you too tired? Was the adrenaline of the game too much? Because I was fully ready to have some hate sex.”

“Darling, I don’t believe it’s hate sex unless you hate each other. I think it’d just be pissed off at the trajectory of the season, ESPN executives for making you jump through hoops they’d never make any man do, and the fucking Orioles.”

“That is too long. No one would ever say that.”

“Then pissed off sex.”

“Okay,” Emma sighs, leaning back even as her fingers curl into his chest hair. She’s always doing that, and he can’t say he minds. His right hand leaves her hip and moves to grab onto the chain around her neck, the cool metal soothing. “Then I was ready to have some pissed off sex.”

Killian chuckles and leans his head back against the headboard and closes his eyes. “Can we do a raincheck on that until we’re home and in our own bed? I’m exhausted. I didn’t realize I was exhausted until you said it, but I am.”

The exhaustion hit him like a ton of bricks, and even if he knows Emma would be fine doing all of the work this time, it’s not what he wants. It’s not going to be what she wants either.

“Rain check it is,” Emma promises. He doesn’t know she’s leaned forward until her mouth moves over his. “I hope we still have something to be pissed off about.”

“If this season keeps going how it’s going and if we keep ending up on every newsstand in New York, I think we’ll have something to be pissed off about.”

Emma pulls back, and her brows furrow. “Hey, don’t do that.”

His hand reaches up to tuck her hair behind her hair, thumb lingering against her cheek. “Do what?”

“You know exactly what you’re doing. You lost, and you’re about to go into some kind of downward spiral over it.”

“We’re horrible, Swan.”

“Yeah, you are.”

His thumb presses into her cheek while her hands fall away from his chest and land in her lap. “That makes me feel great.”

“If I said you weren’t horrible, you’d be pissed at me for lying.”

“You know what – ” Killian snaps his mouth shut, leaning back against the headboard and taking a deep breath. Emma is still on his lap, and he chokes back the hiss when she shifts. “I’m not going to fight with you on this, love. It’s not worth it.”

There’s fire in Emma’s eyes and he’s sure a fight on the tip of her tongue, but she leans back and shifts until she’s on her side of the bed again, pulling her knees to her chest.

“I’m sorry today was rough, twenty-nine. I’m sorry that the season sucks. Like, big time. I’m sorry that our life, _ours,_ is something people think is their business. None of it is fair, and as much as I wish you were out there winning, it doesn’t make a difference in who you are. I’m not going to stop loving you just because you’re having a hard time.”

Killian huffs and lazily reaches forward until his fingers are intertwining with Emma’s. “Are you sure? You’ve only been dating me as a champion. This whole thing might go to hell now.”

“Don’t even say that.”

  
  
“Why not? All I really want to do is impress you. Indefinitely or something. This isn’t very impressive.”

He’s pitying himself. He knows that. He wants to stop, but at the back of his mind, there are all those awful thoughts about not being good enough: for the team, for himself, for Emma.

God, he thinks all the time how he’s not good enough for her.

“If you think I’m only with you because you’re good at baseball, that’s the stupidest thought you’ve ever had. And I know how smart you are, twenty-nine. I’ve seen your engineering books. That’s not a degree for dummies.”

Killian chuckles. “To be fair, I don’t know what’s happening in those books either.”

“Liar.” Her hand squeezes his. “If you want to be pissed off, be pissed off. It’ll apparently come in hand for our sex life later. I’m just saying that the season sucking doesn’t mean you suck. As a ballplayer or human or boyfriend or whatever.”

“Those are some eloquent words there, Swan.”

Her eyes roll, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. He can feel one tugging at his lips too.

“I lied when I said I wasn’t hungry earlier. I think it’s affecting how my brain works.”

“I ordered you fries. There weren’t any onion rings.”

“I heard. Should I go find a vending machine and get some more junk food? I know you don’t really want to eat your food.”

“Trying to watch my figure, love.”

“Shut up,” Emma groans, leaning forward and quickly kissing his cheek. “Where’s your wallet? I’m going to go get us snacks.”

“Why do you need my wallet for that?”

“Because I don’t have cash on me.”

“It’s in the safe.”

Emma nods and rolls off the bed, adjusting her shorts from where they’d risen to expose half of her ass. “Eating vending machine food in a hotel room is pretty much a tradition for us, you know?”

“So is having sex after you’ve seen me in a pool.”

  
  
“That happened one time. That’s not enough for it to be a tradition.”

He moves his brows up and down. “We could make it happen more times.”

“Go take a shower, twenty-nine. A _cold_ one. Room service is going to be here soon, and you haven’t calmed down from the almost hate sex.”

“Pissed off sex.”

She shakes her head, just slightly.

How the hell did he end up with someone like her?

“You’re ridiculous.”

“Get me some barbecue chips if they have them, yeah?”

Emma holds his wallet between her fingers. “Was already planning on it. I hear the guy paying makes damn good money even though his baseball team sucks.”

Killian throws a pillow at Emma, but she dodges it before slipping out of the room, the door clicking closed behind her.

Love of his life, that woman.

One day he’ll tell her so with something other than words.


	5. Little League is Kind of a Big Deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The one where Killian takes Jace to his first baseball game outside of Yankee Stadium.

**October 2023**

“Killian, where are we going?”

“I can’t tell you that, love.”

“Because you’re being obnoxious.”

“No, because I’m surprising you.”

He hears Emma scoff, and he reaches his hand over to place it on her knee, squeezing before leaning his palm against the rough denim.

“Swan, I packed everything we need. I even made some brownies for you. Plus, you and Jace are both wearing appropriate clothing, and we don’t have to stay for the entire time.”

“The entire time?” Emma hisses before looking up into the review mirror to see Jace in the backseat. He’s been sleeping since they put him in the car seat, and since he always sleeps when they drive him, Emma really shouldn’t expect him to wake up anytime soon. “Where are we going?”

Killian sighs and looks over to Emma, flashing her a smile, before threading their hands together and bringing her hand to his lips. “There’s a fall Little League I heard about last week. They’ve got games today.”

“I thought Little League happened in the spring.”

“Aye, it does, but this is a league specifically for fall. It’s for the kids who pretty much eat and breathe baseball.”

“Oh, so you.”

His nose scrunches up. “Yes, you could say that.”

Emma shifts in her seat and runs her thumb over his knuckles. It’s always so soothing when she does that. They could have stayed home today. It would be so simple and wouldn’t have required them to change out of their pajamas, but he wanted to do this. He wanted to take Jace to this game and to have him see kids playing instead of professionals, even if there’s not a chance in hell that he’ll understand what’s going on.

“I like that about you, you know?”

“You like that I’m obsessed with baseball?”

“I like that you have something you love so much.”

He squeezes her hand and turns on the blinker before switching lanes. “I love you far more than I love baseball.”

“That’s rom com level cheesy.”

“You know I have a track record for that.”

“It’s honestly a miracle we’re together because I am not a fan of cheesy.”

Killian scoffs and shakes his head. “You say that you’re not, love. You do this thing where you scrunch up your nose and scowl, but afterward, your lips tug up and compliment the pretty blush on your cheeks. You like it.”

He hits the breaks as the light in front of them turns red. Emma leans over and kisses him, lingering a few seconds more than a quick kiss would require. “I will never admit that.”

Eventually the light turns green, and he keeps driving them toward the fields. It’s a little further away than he was expecting, but then again, traffic was absolutely horrible getting out of Manhattan. He’s not supposed to be doing this. Technically, he’s supposed to be reviewing tape for the ALCS next week, but he knows the techniques of the Astros well enough to know what he’s got to do. Really, he should have an ice pack around his shoulder and should be in bed, but he wanted to do this.

He needed to do this.

The parking lot is full of cars, all of the fields already have games going on, and Killian quickly pulls in a spot near the back of the lot before he and Emma get out of the car.

“Would you rather get the kid or the bags, sweetheart?”

“Bags. He’s going to be mad if you wake him up.”

“Should I just undo the car seat then? Let him sleep?”

Emma hits the button for the trunk to open. “I would.”

Killian nods and quietly opens the door to get to Jace only to find him awake, his eyes sleepily opening until Killian is looking into a pair of blue eyes that look far too much like his own.

“Well, hello,” Killian sighs, reaching forward to undo Jace’s straps. “You woke up just in time, lad.”

“Dada,” he sleepily says. The kid’s got three words down, which Killian is pretty sure means he’s going to be a genius, but that particular word will never get old. “Dada, Dada, Dada.”

“Hi, Jace. Mom and I are going to have you watch some baseball with us. I know you can’t be tired of that, right? It’s not like you watch games all the time, is it? You’ve probably been inside Yankee Stadium more than a lot of the rookies.”

“Dada.”

“So articulate.” Killian keeps undoing Jace’s straps until he’s free of them and can stretch his arms out, releasing a small yawn, and then curling himself into Killian when Killian picks him up.

“Did you wake him up?” Emma asks.

“He was awake. Do you want to trade since we don’t have the car seat?”

“Nah, this is fine. Lead the way, Captain. I assume you have some kind of game plan.”

“I kind of figured we’d wander around, check out a few different games.”

  
  
“We can’t just aimlessly wander at a park with a bunch of kids. That’s what creeps do. We’ll look like creeps.”

“We will not.”

She motions toward him. “You have on a baseball cap and sunglasses and dark clothing. You are going to look suspicious.”

Killian pushes Jace up on his hip. “The baby makes me look significantly less creepy. Plus, you. You help.”

Emma shakes her head and rolls her eyes before grabbing a small knit hat out of the bag and tugging it down over Jace’s head. “We can wander if you get me a hamburger and a hot chocolate from the concession stand.”

“Deal.”

After he gets Emma her food, even if he does remind her they have brownies, they begin wandering around the fields. It’s colder than he thought it would be, the wind picking up and blowing around the bleachers, and Killian makes sure that Jace is covered at all times. He keeps squirming, wanting to get down and move, but considering he’s not walking yet, Killian isn’t going to put him down on the concrete. Later, they’ll put a blanket down and let him crawl there, but the kid has got to chill.

An eleven-month-old obviously listens when someone tells him that.

“My mom used to do that.”

“Hmm?”

“The woman sitting in the top corner of the bleachers.” Killian points toward a woman sitting down with a sign at her feet next to a cooler he’s sure is full of snacks. She’s wrapped up in a blanket, and she’s sitting away from all of the other parents. “My mom would always sit away from the other parents because they were always losing their shit over a bunch of seven-year-olds playing a game. She said between them and my dad, she just needed a place to breathe.”

Emma exhales next to him, a small white puff of air appearing, and if the sun doesn’t come out soon, they’re going to have to go home sooner than he anticipated. But then she’s leaning her head onto his shoulder and resting her hand on his knee, and everything in the world feels right for a moment.

“Did your mom practice with you? Or was she just your biggest fan from the bleachers?”

“If I asked, she would.” Killian grabs Emma’s and traces his finger over her rings. “She preferred to read with me or to play soccer or something. The only time we really talked about baseball was when I brought it up or when she and Brennan were arguing over how hard he was working me. Of course, that didn’t truly start until after she’s passed, so she missed the worst of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Tis okay, my love. It was a long time ago.”

“I know, but that doesn’t mean it sucks any less. One day Jace will be telling someone all the ways we screwed up, too.”

Killian scoffs and shakes his head before turning to kiss Emma’s temple, breathing her in. she smells of a warm vanilla, and he’ll never tire of it. “We’re definitely going to screw up, but we’re nothing like our parents, Swan. It’s not going to be the same.”

“No, no I guess not.”

“I know not.”

Emma laughs and presses their hands forward, releasing his to clap for Jace so he’ll start crawling back toward them. “I’m pretty sure Jace is about to eat grass, so we’re obviously doing a great job.”

“Darling, I think every kid eats grass at some point. Kids come from two people having sex, so it’s not like there’s really a test to see if you’re qualified.”

“Oh my God.” Emma shoves his shoulder and lets go of his hand until she’s leaning forward and grabbing onto Jace. “Your dad is ridiculous, kid. Do you know that? He’s absolutely ridiculous.”

“For saying how the reproduction system works because I – ”

“Excuse me.”

Killian quickly turns from Emma to look up at a young boy standing above him. He’s in a dirtied-up uniform, dirt marks on his knees and scuffing up his cleats, and his jersey is far too big for him. The timid smile on his face, however, seems far too small for him.

“Can I help you?” Killian asks as he tugs down his hat.

“Are you – are you Killian Jones?”

Killian smiles and moves his hat up. “Aye, I am. And may I ask, who are you?”

“Henry.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Henry. Do you want me to sign your ball?”

The kid nods, basically thrusting the ball and the marker into Killian’s hand until Killian is signing the ball while asking Henry about his team and what position he plays. The boy gets a little more talkative, the nerves waning off, and Killian gets it. He does. He never likes to think too highly of himself or think that he’s some big deal, but he’s living the dream. He’s living the dream that ninety percent of the kids here are going to dream of for at least one moment in their lives, and it’s fucking awesome.

It’s…

“Can I tell all of my friends that you’re here?” Henry blurts out.

“Oh, I, uh – ”

“I’m going to take Jace to go watch that game over there,” Emma tells him, nodding and smiling. “You go ahead.”

“Swan – ”

“They’re kids,” Emma whispers. “It’s your favorite. I don’t mind. Go make their day. Henry, you can tell your friends.”

His smile finally matches the size of his face. “Awesome. I’ll be right back.”

Henry sprints away to a group of kids in the same uniform as him, and Killian quickly turns to Emma as she stands and picks Jace up. “Swan, we can leave right now. We don’t have to stick around.”  
  
“Twenty-nine, you came to a ballpark in New York full of kids who are obsessed with baseball. You were obviously going to get recognized despite you’re not so sly disguise. The only people you don’t mind signing autographs for and taking pictures with are kids. Jace and I will go hide out somewhere else, and it’ll be like we’re not here so there aren’t a million and two pictures of him online.”

Killian nods and rises to his feet as well, leaning forward to glide his lips over his. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”  
  


Jace takes the opportunity to make some kind of unnatural noise then, dimples popping up in his cheeks, and Killian’s heart decides to do some kind of unnatural beat to match his son’s noise.

God, he might be the luckiest man on the planet.

“And Jace either loves your or hates you. I can’t tell.”

“It’s love,” Killian assures her while tugging down Jace’s beanie. “It’s definitely love.”

“Whatever you say, Jones. I think your fan club is on its way over.”

“Wish me luck.”

Emma salutes him and then walks away as Killian hears Jace start screaming out the word “ball.”

He wouldn’t be the son of a baseball player if one of the three words he knows wasn’t ball.

“Yep, ‘ball,’” Emma tells him. “Your daddy plays baseball, and he does it really, really well.”

Killian signs autographs and takes pictures for thirty minutes. It could be longer than that, but he starts losing track of time as more games end and kids keep coming over. Some of them have absolutely no interest in him, actually probably despise him and everyone on the Yankees, but that’s fine. He gets it. Sports are intense, and as long as no one is making any actual threats toward him or his loved ones, Killian is here for a little antagonistic taunting.

(Actual threats happen more often than he’s comfortable with, and while he and Emma have always been private, they are much more so with Jace and the information they share about him. People are bloody insane, and Killian isn’t going to ignore the possibility of harm.)

Eventually, though, once his hand starts to cramp and his cheeks hurt, Killian finishes signing balls and jerseys and taking pictures and politely excuses himself, telling everyone that he’s got a game to prepare for. It’s true, but not entirely. Mostly he wants to get back to his family, get in the car, and go home.

He wanted to be here today, wanted to watch all of these kids have such joy for the game that has defined his life, and he wanted to feel it somewhere outside of the mound.

His shoulder has started hurting again, is an absolute pain in the ass, and Killian has done everything to make it better. It’s not every day and not every game, but it is happening far more often than he’d like it to. It’s happening when he wants to pick up his son after a game and when he’s got his shoulder wrapped around his wife.

It’s happening.

He doesn’t want it to.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, Killian knows that this season won’t be the end. Next season, however, if he can’t pick Jace up without much pain, he might have to hand in his glove. He’s got All-Star games and three fucking World Series Championships, which is more than he could have ever dreamed about. He’s got friends and family and…Emma.

He’s got the love of his life who he shouldn’t even be with.

He’s got the love of his life who he can’t tell these thoughts to, not yet. They’re not supposed to keep secrets from each other, but he’s going to for now, until he knows for sure.

Asking her out all that time ago was complicated, but it worked out for them.

She should have slapped him, refused to talk to him again, and then filed some kind of order against him when he asked her out on television. That was still an asshole, misogynistic move, and every time Killian sees something similar happen, he hates himself for doing that and for possibly encouraging other men to do it. He didn’t…well, he didn’t mean to cause any harm, but he still did, didn’t he?

Emma’s forgiven him, though, and at the end of the day, even with all of the awareness he tries to bring to the problem that keeps persisting with men not taking female reporters seriously, Emma forgiving him is what matters for his personal life.

Emma forgiving him and sticking by his side while he does obnoxious things like drag her out in the cold to go to the little league fields.

“Hey,” Killian whispers when he walks up to the two of them, “you guys ready to go?”

“I think my fingers are icicles.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s definitely a yes.”

They’re able to get out of the park fairly easily, moving away from the crowds and getting into their car, and before Killian knows it, Jace is asleep in his car seat while Emma has her hand in his once more.

Like clockwork.

“Are we going to be those parents who drag their kids out to little league games when it’s not even little league season?”

“Technically we already are.”

Emma laughs and taps her thumb against his hand. “You know what I mean.”

“Aye, I do. And I imagine that if Jace or any other kids want to play baseball during the fall, we’ll be out there, coolers full of snacks and signs tucked under our arms.”

“You’d definitely have to be the coach.”

  
  
“Would I?”

“Twenty-nine. C’mon. You would be the first one signing up for it.”

He would. He knows it. If Jace wants to play, Killian would be beyond thrilled to be the coach.

“Sweetheart, if Jace plays baseball, I’ll be the coach. If Jace plays tennis, I’ll be the coach. If Jace is on the debate team, I’ll quiz him. If he is into art, I’ll be at every art show and every class. If he’s into something else entirely different, I’ll be there. I’m always going to be there.”

Emma’s hand squeezes his before he brings her knuckles to his lips once more.

“Killian, are you okay?”

“I’m perfect.”

  
  
“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he says. It’s a lie and the truth all at once, but for right now, just like this, he’s going to lean more toward the truth of things. Today’s not the day to be figuring everything else out. “I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, I am working on the proposal one. I know that's the one everyone wants. It's just taking me awhile to write it because there's a lot happening story-wise at the time that it happens🙈


	6. Promotions and Proposals, Oh My!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really appreciate those of you reading these extra scenes and leaving me comments or kudos or simply thinking of how much you enjoy them! I'm always blown away and appreciative of the fact that people read these words, and I don't know if I express that to you all enough. Finally, though, I'm getting you guys one of the scenes you really wanted, so I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> I will be home, pretty much indefinitely, and while I haven't figured out if this will give me more or less time to write with my husband home too (so probably less), I will be here plugging along on some requests when I get the time! I know a lot of you are distracting yourself with words and reading, so if there's ever been something you wanted to read, let me know. I'll see if I can do something with it 😃

**November 2020**

“Oh my God.”

“What?”

“Oh my God.”

“What? Emma, what?”

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“What the bloody hell is wrong?”

Emma tosses her phone at Killian and then sits up in bed, kicking away the comforter and getting her foot caught before she not-so-gracefully rolls out of bed, nearly landing face first on the rug. Or the hardwood. Yeah, she definitely would have hit the hardwood.

Probably knocked out her front teeth, too.

That would be attractive.

_Oh my God._

This is happening. It is. It’s really, really happening, and Emma doesn’t know what to do. Does she actually want it to happen? Of course she wants it to happen. She’s wanted this to happen for what feels like forever. She’s waited and bided her time and written report after report and dealt with sexist men, including her boyfriend.

Okay, well, he’s a special case, but it still happened. There were still repercussions from that, and most men don’t see the error in their ways like Killian does.

There are still repercussions from all of it, from being a woman.

The hoops she’s had to jump through have been insane and unfair, but she did them anyway. She watched tapes and kept stat sheets and analyzed them and has freaking notebooks on every player on the Yankees as well as every other team in the American League.

_Oh shit._

But does she actually want this?

It’s a change. She likes where she is now. She likes what she does. She likes traveling with the team and being out on the field and…

No.

No, no, no.

Fuck all of that.

She’s always wanted to be more than the pretty girl on the sidelines. She loves her job and admires every woman who has it, but she wants to be in the big leagues. She wants to break that damn glass ceiling with a baseball bat.

“Holy fuck, Swan. Is this what I think it is?”

Emma stops and turns on her heels to look at Killian as his eyes shift between her and her phone. His mouth is hanging open, and she can’t really imagine what she looks like.

Ridiculous.

Definitely ridiculous.

“It’s my offer for a final interview.”

“To be a full-time booth commentator for the Yankees?”

She bites her lip and nods her head. “Mhm.”

Killian chuckles and drops the phone to the mattress. “You’re a badass, love.”

  
  
“I _am_ a badass.”

“You’re an amazing, talented, intelligent, witty, beautiful badass.”

“Please, keep flattering me. I’ll take all of the compliments. You can make me blush.” 

“And I can see that blush all the way down.”

Emma laughs before looking down and _oh shit_.

She’s naked.

Like, completely naked.

She got offered a final interview for her dream job while not wearing any clothes, and how is she going to tell people that?

Well, she probably doesn’t have to tell them that. She can omit that part.

“Twenty-nine, I think I’m losing my mind,” she mumbles before walking across the room and picking up Killian’s shirt from the night before, slipping it over her shoulders before she walks back over to the bed and straddles Killian’s lap. “Is this real?”

His hands run over her shoulders, little sparks of electricity shocking her, before he’s tucking her hair behind her ears. “It is indeed.”

“I’m so excited.”

“I’m so proud.” He leans forward and softly presses his lips into hers, and she instantly melts into him. She’s vibrating with nerves and excitement and the slight desire to vomit, but Killian takes all of that away in the movements of his mouth and the curl of his tongue with hers. She has so much to do, so much to prepare for, but that can wait for at least this moment. “I am proud no matter what happens going forward.”

  
  
“Yeah, well, that’s because you’re far too supportive.”

“Hmm,” he mumbles before wrapping his arms around her until he’s shifting her onto her back. “Now, you really shouldn’t have put this shirt on.”

  
  
“And why’s that?”

Killian looks up at her and winks. “I think we both know the answer to that.”

-/-

Emma doesn’t sleep for two weeks.

Killian probably doesn’t sleep because she tosses and turns throughout the night.

It might be the least amount of sleep she’s gotten in her entire life, and that’s certainly saying something considering her childhood and the amount that she doesn’t sleep when she’s traveling for work.

There might be less of that soon.

Or not.

She doesn’t know.

She _has_ to be a shoe-in for the job, but there’s this part of her that still doubts that the networks are going to make the right decision. So many men still think women don’t belong in sports, especially male-dominated sports, and she has been told one too many times that her job is to be a pretty piece of ass in a tight skirt.

What if they don’t want her doing anything other than that?

What if they don’t even let her go back to that?

“Go back to bed.”

“What?”

Killian rolls over and wraps his arms around her waist, pulling her back to him and pressing his nose into the back of her neck. He’s so damn warm. Maybe that’s just the way her heart is pounding with her thoughts.

“Go back to sleep,” Killian murmurs. His lips flicker across her skin, and she shivers. “You’ve got an early morning, and you need to go to sleep.”

“You’re a pot calling a kettle black.”

“That’s an old-fashioned saying.”

“I’m an old-fashioned girl.”

Killian snorts into her neck and spreads his hand out over her stomach. “That’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.”

“Shut up.”

“I would if you would go back to bed. I know you’re nervous, but you can’t be tossing like that. You’ll be dead in the morning.”

“I can’t sleep.”

“You can,” he whispers. “I promise. In eight hours, it’ll be over, and then we can celebrate.”

“I’m not going to know if I get it right after the interview.”

“We’ll celebrate the possibility. I think a pie is calling your name.”

“Oh, so you’re going to be stress baking while I interview?”

“Absolutely.”

“At least pie will come out of it.” 

“And your dream job, Swan. That, too.”

-/-

She nails the interview.

Or, at least, she thinks she does.

She’s honestly got no idea, and if she replays it in her head enough, she’s going to convince herself that she completely and totally screwed it up.

She didn’t she couldn’t have.

Hell, at least Killian made pie.

And at least it’s the off-season after the shittiest season in the world, and they can sit on the couch and catch up on all the TV they missed and mope together. That’s all that really matters anyway.

“This is really good,” Emma murmurs as she scoops some of the pie out of the pan. “I don’t think I’ve eaten in weeks.”

“Well, now you’re free to eat and sit on the couch as much as you want.”

Emma leans over and presses her lips to his cheek.

“Good.”

-/-

She gets the job.

_She gets the freaking job._

And words and emotions and everything else in the world can’t really describe how excited or emotional she is. This is her dream. This is what she’s always wanted. Well, not always. Bit for the past decade? This is what she’s wanted.

And she got it.

_She got it, she got it, she got it._

-/-

“Oh, come on, come on,” David laughs as he stands from his chair and whistles. “Everybody take a moment and listen to me.”

  
  
“What if we don’t want to?” Will shouts out.

Out of the corner of her eye, Emma sees Belle playfully shove Will and Liam do the same thing.

“I guess you’re out of luck then,” David continues. Killian wraps his arm around Emma’s shoulder, and she rests her head there. David really shouldn’t be giving some ridiculous speech when everyone has been here for approximately two seconds. He also really shouldn’t be giving one because she specifically said no to that. “Emma is probably dying inside because she told me I wasn’t allowed to do this, but I am her brother and love to embarrass her. But I will keep it short, though. Emma has worked hard for this, has had crazy situations thrown at her from every direction, and I could not possibly be more proud of her and the life she’s created for herself. So, here’s to Emma.”

That was a hell of a lot shorter than she thought it was going to be. Thank goodness.

“To Emma,” everyone echoes.

“To you,” Killian whispers into her hairline.

“Alright,” Elsa claps, “who wants to eat?”

“I do,” Addy screeches as she climbs up onto the counters. “I want pizza.”

“You act like you haven’t eaten in weeks, Addy.”

“You made me wait for Emma to get here, and now she’s here. I want pizza.”

“Come on, Els,” Emma laughs. “Give the girl some pizza. More importantly, give me some pizza.”

“It’s your night. You can have all of the pizza you want.”

“Really?” Addy squeals.

“No. You get two pieces, kid. Emma gets all the pizza she wants because she’s a grown-up and we’re celebrating her getting a new job.”

“Is she still going to be on TV?”

“I am, kid,” Emma sighs. “You get to hear my voice even more when you watch the games on TV now, and I’ll be home more even when Killian is away.”

“Good,” Addy says as she gets her plate of pizza. “You do better braids than him.”

“Oi, that’s harsh right there, mate,” Will mutters.

“It’s the truth,” Liam agrees as Emma snickers. “Emma does do better braids than Killian, but I obviously do the best.”

“I’m feeling attacked,” Killian mutters as he slides around Emma and starts filling his plate. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t taught how to braid here. I will have to endeavor to learn so I’m no longer bad-mouthed at celebrations that are obviously about braiding skills.”

Everyone starts getting into the pizza and chips, the vegetable platter staying unsurprisingly full, before spreading out across the main floor of Liam and Elsa’s house. If Anna were here, she’d be appalled by the fact that they’re having pizza instead of a homecooked meal to celebrate, but she doesn’t know how damn good this pizza is.

Or how good the conversation is.

Or how good it feels just to know that this year, with all of its ups and downs, has turned out to be a lot better than she ever could have expected three weeks ago. And she gets to still think that with the horrible season they just finished and all of the other shitty stuff that happened this year. She gets to think that because she deserves this for all of the shit the baseball world has put her through.

She’s never thought that the world owes her anything, but maybe for just this once she deserves this.

She deserves it because she’s damn good at her job, and she earned this.

“Watch out on how much pizza you’re eating, little brother,” Liam starts, “wouldn’t want you to have to work off a bunch of weight when your off-season is over.”

  
  
“Liam, be nice,” Elsa sighs.

“I think Killian’s good on the being fit situation,” Emma promises as she pats his stomach. “I could give you more details, but I feel like that would freak you out.”

Liam groans as Killian chokes on his food. “Swan.”

  
  
“What?” Emma laughs. “I’m just saying. I think you can have all of the pizza and beer you want.”

“I’m driving tonight, so I’ll hold back on the beer. The pizza, though, I’m taking home with us.”

“So much pizza talk tonight,” Ruby groans. “I thought we were more interesting than that.” 

“Oh, see,” Elsa starts, “I can quote all of Play Paws, so I’ve been boring for a long while. Liam, too. Actually, Liam more than me.”

“Hey.”

“What? It’s true.”

“You all need hobbies,” Ruby says. “Oh, oh, oh. We should go out. Like, to an actual bar. We can get babysitters for all of you guys who have procreated, and it’ll be great. Just imagine Mary Margaret dancing.”

“Rubes, stop. She’ll hear you, and you do not want her trying to prove otherwise.”

“Oh, no, I do. It’s my favorite thing in the world.”  
  
“You know,” Graham starts, “you’re not necessarily the best dancer either.”

Ruby holds her finger up. “If I get a few beers in you, you’d never know that.”

“This is going to be a thing, I can feel it.” Killian leans over and presses his lips to her temple. “They obviously don’t know about how you dance.”

“Oh my God, stop. I’m a horrible dancer.” Emma takes another bite of her pizza. This is probably her fourth slice, and she’s definitely going to regret it in the morning. Not right now though. “But I do think we can agree that the person we most need to see dance is Will because he talks a big game, but I have seen videos from spring training.”

“Oi,” Will shouts from across the room, “don’t judge me by your boyfriend’s Instagram stories. I am better than every person in this room.”

“Better at what?” Mary Margaret asks as she walks in the room with Ariel trailing behind her.

Emma groans and hides her face in Killian’s shoulder as Ruby starts laughing.

“Dancing, love,” Killian explains because he’s apparently a glutton for punishment.

“Oh, we should totally get babysitters and go out,” Ariel squeals. “I’d love a night away from Morgan.”

“That’s a brilliant idea,” Mary Margaret agrees.

Emma lifts her head from Killian’s shoulder and stares Ruby down. “See, I told you.”

“Oh, come on,” Killian laughs, “we should let them have their fun. Besides, we might have a little fun, too.”

“Let’s go next week,” Mary Margaret suggests.

“That sounds perfect, love.”

“Wait,” Emma laughs as she turns to face Killian, “we’re going to Spain next week.”

“Exactly,” Killian winks. “We’ll be safe and far away from the horrible dancing.”

-/-

“Oh my God,” Emma sighs as she falls back against the front door, “I’m exhausted. I shouldn’t have worn heels tonight. That was dumb just to hang out at your brother’s place.”

“I thought it was a great decision. Your ass looked fantastic.”

“You’re such a man.”

Killian chuckles and leans into her until his nose is pressing into her neck. “What can I say? I like the things I like.”

“Are you attempting to seduce me, Jones?”

“I was going to give it a shot.”

Emma hums as he rubs his scruff across her skin. She used to hate that, but now she enjoys the pleasant burn. It often feels weird when he’s shaved it all off. He did that last week, and she was not a fan.

It felt weird running her hands over his cheek or kissing him.

“I’m too tired, but if you play your cards right, maybe in the morning.”

“Promises, promises.”

She pushes back on his chest, and she can see the smile on his face, tired but genuine just like hers. They both definitely ate too much pizza tonight, but not enough that she doesn’t want dessert.

“I do promise. Now, let me go change, and then I want to eat some leftover pie in bed.”

“Let me guess. I’m in charge of heating up the pie.”

“You’re so smart. I knew you were learning something in college.”

Killian chuckles before playfully slapping her ass and nudging her toward the bedroom. “Go change, Swan. It’s your night. You can have whatever you damn well please.”

“Oh, I like the sound of that. Can I have nights celebrating me more often?”

“As long as you don’t let it all go to your head.”

“I would never.”

“That’s a lie, but I’ll take it. Which pie do you want?”

“The peanut butter chocolate one you don’t like. On the bright side, though, you don’t have to heat that one up.”

Killian mockingly bows, and Emma has to bite her lip to keep from laughing. The idiot.

As he makes his way to the kitchen, she heads back to the bedroom and to the closet, kicking her heels off before tugging down her jeans and pulling off her sweater and her bra. She really wants to leave all of her stuff on the floor, but Killian has done so much for her today. The least she can do is not make a mess, especially when she’s going to steal one of his t-shirts to sleep in.

God, why is hanging clothes up the absolute worst? Her side of the closet is a disaster while Killian’s is perfectly organized, and she’ll never understand how those parts of their personalities are compatible.

Seriously, he organizes his t-shirts by age, which is a lot when the man owns over one hundred Yankee-related shirts from an eight-year-career.

She wants one of the bigger ones, so she goes to the bottom drawer when he used to wear things that weren’t so form fitting to find an old, worn in shirt. She finds one, pulling it out, and then beneath it is a small black box.

_Oh boy._

Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy.

Emma knows what’s in that box. It could be earrings or another charm for her necklace or anything else, but somewhere deep in her gut, she knows that it’s none of those things.

Holy shit.

They’ve talked about this. They’ve had a million vague, slightly terrifying conversations, and then one or two serious, definitely terrifying conversations over whether or not they wanted to get married or if they were okay simply being together.

They both said they were fine with either.

They also both knew which one they preferred.

She just didn’t know that it was happening now.

But it makes sense. They’ve been together for a year and a half, which isn’t really that long, but it feels like it’s always been this way. It feels like it’s always been the two of them and a team of idiots traveling across the country to play baseball and talk about baseball and eat pizza at two in the morning in hotel rooms.

It feels like this is the way it’s always supposed to be, and at no point in her life did she ever think she would feel that way.

Emma was never the girl who got to have this many good things, and this part of her does still think that if she blinks, it’ll all go away.

Slowly, she closes her eyes.

_One, two, three._

When she opens them, the ring box is still there, and because she knows there’s no way in hell she’ll be able to keep her mouth shut over finding it, Emma takes the box out of the drawer and carries it with her into the bedroom where Killian is already in bed and has a piece of pie waiting for her on her bedside table. She immediately walks over to him, crawls onto the mattress, and straddles his thighs.

“So, don’t be mad at me.”

His brow arches. “Oh, it’s always a good thing when you say that.”

Emma wrinkles her nose and leans forward to kiss his forehead. “I mean it. You can’t get mad at me for what I’m about to do.”

“I feel like that is a promise I can’t keep, but for you, my love, I’ll try my best.”

Emma sighs before taking a deep breath. This is the right thing. This _has_ to be the right thing.

She can’t not tell him she knows.

“So, I was getting a t-shirt to sleep in, and I found this.” She holds the box in front of her, and Killian’s shoulders immediately tense. That’s probably not the best sign. “And that’s why I don’t want you to get mad at me. I haven’t looked at it. I promise. I didn’t want to do that without you, but I knew that there’s no way I could see this and then not act like a total freak. So, just, if you were waiting because you were hesitant of my answer, you should know it would be yes.”

Killian’s hand moves from her thighs to her hand, and he takes the box from her. She can’t seem to look away from his eyes, though.

“I was going to wait, Swan,” he softly explains. “You were never supposed to find this, and you certainly weren’t supposed to find this when we’re in the middle of celebrating your career. This wasn’t supposed to be happening today.”

“Wait. How long have you had this?”

“A few weeks.”

  
  
“And when were you going to use it?”

“The day you got the email for your interview. I had this whole big plan.”

  
  
“Yeah?”

  
  
“Mhm.” He reaches up to tuck her hair behind her ear, and she turns her hand to kiss his palm. “I was going to cook dinner, but I wasn’t going to make it obvious that something special was going to happen. It was simply going to be us in the living room, the lights turned down and a movie on, and I had a speech.”

“Did you?” Her heart is beating a ridiculous rhythm. “Can you say it now?”

Killian clicks his tongue. “See, if I say it now, I’m afraid it will sound forced, and we wouldn’t want that, now would we?”

Emma softly laughs and leans forward to rest her forehead against his and cup his cheeks.

“I think I would.”

“I already took so much of your spotlight away in big moments of your career. I don’t want to keep doing that.”

“Killian Jones, you have never taken anything away from me. You’ve only added to those moments.”

“Careful now. You’re starting to sound like me.”

“Count it as a good thing.”

His eyes flutter closed, but then his nose is burrowing into her cheek and she can feel his lips move as he speaks. “I remember the first day you walked into the locker room as a reporter. You were strong and confident and took no shit from any of the players. I think right then and there I knew you were a force to be reckoned with, even if I had never spoken to you.”

She had no idea he remembered that day. Absolutely none. There’s no reason he should, but he does somehow. It’s easy to forget how their lives have been so intertwined for years when neither of them put too much thought into it.

Ships passing in the night.

At least back then.

“Emma, every thought I had on that day has been proven time and time again. You are bloody brilliant in every way, and I’m a better man because I have you by my side. I don’t ever want that to change.”

“I don’t either,” she whispers. “I can’t believe you remember my first day. I didn’t even interview you.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been known to have a good memory.”

“Much to my dismay sometimes,” Emma laughs. Her heart is still beating far too quickly to be healthy. “You make me better, too. I didn’t ever think – I – ”

“I know, love. I know.” Killian’s lips press into hers, slowly, softly, reverently. “Will you marry me, darling? Will you marry me so that nothing in our life will change except for the fact that I can walk around obnoxiously calling you my wife all the time?”

Emma barks out a laugh, and her heart finally settles because this right here is everything it was every supposed to be and she feels calm about it.

“Yeah, I think I’ll marry you, twenty-nine.”

“You think?”

“Just shut up and kiss me again. You knew my answer was always going to be yes.”

“It’s nice to hear it, though.”

“Then yes, Killian,” she whispers before kissing him. “Yes.”


	7. You're Quite the Catch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hello! Don’t know if you’re accepting prompts but just saw a clip of Gerrit and Amy Cole playing catch- she’s pregnant and still bringing the heat! Thought of Emma and Killian in the CMIYC verse :)

**September 2022**

Emma hates him.

She really, really does, and she doesn’t plan on changing her mind about that anytime soon. He doesn’t deserve it, and she’s going to stick to that thought process for the foreseeable future.

Because that’s definitely rational, and she is a beacon for being rational at all times.

Or not.

Definitely not. But at least part of the time.

“Take the train home,” Ruby says as she hands her the largest cup of lemonade Emma has ever seen. She’s going to have to pee approximately eighteen times after she drinks it. “I’ll ride with you so you’re not alone.”

“We don’t take anything close to the same route, and I don’t care about riding alone.”

“I don’t care that we’re not on the same route.” Ruby taps her shoulder into Emma’s as Emma takes a sip of her drink. God, this is delicious. She could probably live off of lemonade right now if she didn’t think about how many calories she consumed with a cup this size. And the peeing. So much peeing. “We could get Graham to come get us. He can give us a police escort.”

“That’s excessive.”

“You look miserable. Excessive might be in order.”

Emma hums and leans back in the stadium seat, propping her feet up on the back of the chair in front of her. She needs to wash her sneakers. They have seen better days, and she loves these too much to do anything but preserve them forever. She definitely should have bought more than one pair when she got these.

Killian would have killed her.

As if he doesn’t have a million shoes of his own.

She’s definitely buying at least two more pairs of these shoes when she gets home. She deserves them.

“I’m not miserable,” Emma promises before taking another sip, “but I’m tired. I have been here since eight this morning, and Killian is out on the field running around in circles.”

“That’s called jogging.”

Emma rolls her eyes and tilts her head to lean it on Ruby’s shoulder. “Shut up.”

“I will soon because I’m about to leave for the day. I just wanted to make sure my nephew was going to be okay.”

“Oh, so what about the woman who is wearing extremely elastic shorts to house your nephew? Because if you don’t ask about me, I swear I’m going to pop off on you.”

Ruby chuckles and wraps her arm around Emma’s shoulder. “People ignoring you and only mentioning your stomach today?”

“Oh my gosh, yes. And my boobs. I had actual, real people reference my boobs and how much bigger they are because I work with a bunch of assholes who can only focus on a woman for her boobs.”

“Your boobs are absolutely gigantic, and you’re only seven months.”

Emma’s eyes narrow. If she didn’t want this lemonade so badly, she’d pour it on Ruby for that comment. “If you ever have a kid, I’m going to remind you that you think being seven months pregnant in the summer in New York is an easy thing.”

“I only meant that your boobs are going to get even bigger along with your ankles.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, gently hitting Ruby. “I should have never told you I have to wear compression socks while working.”

“That was a mistake.”

“My ankles are normal size.”

“If you say so.” Ruby nods down toward the field. “It looks like your baby daddy is winding down. You going to be okay if I leave you to him? Or are you going to murder him for making you wait here? I’ll support you in that, but there’s only so much I can legally do to get you out of that situation.”

“Nah, I like him too much to murder him.”

“I’ve heard he’s really good at sex, too.”

“Rubes, you’re ridiculous.” Emma pulls herself away from Ruby, standing from the seats and wiping away the sweat that’s pooled at the back of her thighs before grabbing the hair elastic off her wrist and pulling her hair up into a ponytail. “You’re also not lying if I have to be totally honest with you.”

“Ha, I knew it.”

Her eyes rolls, and when Ruby stands, Emma leans over to hug her. She doesn’t actually know what she would do without Ruby and her penchant for asking totally inappropriate questions.

“Go home and let me go try to drag the crazy man off the field, okay?”

“I’m pretty sure he’s trying to win the World Series again to impress you.”

“That would be ridiculous.”

“But it’s definitely true. You might be married to the most romantic man alive.”

“I’m going to tell Graham you said that.”

“Please do. He could step up his game.”

“I’ll slip it into the next conversation, but try as much as you might, there’s not much of a chance of Graham winning the World Series. But I’ll send him a text with a very blunt hint.”

“Perfect.” Ruby places her hands on Emma’s stomach, and Emma has to bite her tongue. She only lets Killian do that because people touching her stomach is freaking weird and should not be a socially accepting just because she has a human growing inside of her. “Baby boy Jones, your mom is going to murder your dad for making her stay here all day, and she’s going to murder me for touching her stomach, so I want you to know that I am the most beautiful woman you’ll ever see.”

“Goodbye, Rubes,” Emma sighs. She takes another sip to keep from laughing. “I’ll let you know if we’re still here in the morning.”

“You might as well wait. You’ll just be super early for work tomorrow.”

“At this rate, we both will be.”

Ruby turns and walks away toward the exit while Emma makes her way down the stands until she’s at the gate that will let her out onto the field. The sun is nearly finished setting, the overhead lights turned on and beaming down onto the field, and the heat from the day is finally melting away so that it’s not excessively sweltering.

She cannot wait for winter. It’ll be cold and comfortable and she won’t be pregnant anymore. She’ll probably be freaking out because she has no idea how to be a mother, but at least her ankles won’t be slightly swollen anymore.

Hopefully.

It’ll all be worth it. Supposedly.

No, definitely.

She’s just miserably hot today and wants to be home on the couch with Netflix on so that she can get up and do this all over again.

They’re going to the ALDS, and she’s so damn excited. They’ve been rebuilding the team for years now, getting back to the top of the game, and this is the first time in a long time that Emma’s felt it in her gut that they’ve got a chance. 2019 feels like decades ago, but it’s only been three years since their lives were insane.

Well, insane in slightly different ways.

At least there are no deadbeat dads working with ex-boyfriends to ruin their lives. She couldn’t go through that again. She needs some kind of calm to be able to get through the next few weeks and keep from getting too stressed.

Pregnancy was obviously a great idea.

“Hey, twenty-nine, they called off practice a few hours ago.”

Killian keeps jogging, but he slows his pace until he’s in a walk and heading straight toward her. He has absolutely soaked through his t-shirt and his shorts, and he is definitely going to smell horrible on the car ride home if he doesn’t shower here.

“I’m getting extra credit, love.”

“You’ve already aced the test. Let’s go.”

Killian pushes his hair off his forehead before reaching back to tug at the back of his shirt, pulling it off and tossing it to the ground. Emma’s stomach swirls, and she swallows the lump in her throat.

Damn, she is luckier than she has any right to be.

Maybe sitting on the couch and watching Netflix isn’t what she actually wants to do right now.

“You see something you like there, Swan?”

“I feel like you took your shirt off because you know my hormones are crazy and that I’m still a little extra horny…on occasion.”

“I took my shirt off because I’m covered in sweat. Something like what you suggested would simply be a perk.”

Emma laughs and meets Killian halfway when he kisses her. “You are incredibly sweaty.”

“If you’re willing to wait a little longer, I’ll shower here.”

“I’m expecting it.”

“Good.” His lips run across her jaw before he pulls back. “You want to do me a favor and do some pitching practice with me?”

“You’re kidding.”

“I notice you didn’t say that as a question.”

“Because it wasn’t.”

Killian’s lips stretch into a smile, and she recognizes it. He’s about to try to charm her pants off, probably quite literally, but she’s not going to let him. She’s going to ignore him and keep on drinking her lemonade.

“C’mon, sweetheart. I’ll cook dinner if you practice with me.”

“You’re already cooking dinner, so you’re really slacking on the convincing.”

“Damn. But to be honest, I was counting on not wearing a shirt to be all the convincing you need.”

Emma shakes her head and takes one last sip of her lemonade before putting it down on the ground. “You have to rub my feet when we get home, and you better promise that you’re not going to nail me with a ball.”

“So many dirty jokes I could make there.”

His brows waggle, and she reaches over to shove him before walking to the pile of equipment behind home plate. She finds a glove that she doesn’t hate, grabs a ball, and meets Killian on the side of the field where he’s waiting for her. They’ve done this countless times out here, in stadiums across the country, and on the rooftop of their house. Though, that last one has led to a broken window at the brownstone across the street, and that was not a pleasant conversation.

She misses one catch and disaster happens.

“I got another jersey today,” Killian tells her as she gently tosses the ball his way.

“For a newborn or for an older kid?”

“I’m thinking toddler. It was cute. They’d gotten it customized with my name and number.”

He pelts the ball back. Okay, so they’re not going super slow today.

“You get it from a fan?”

“Yep. A group of women.”

Emma closes her eyes and shakes her head as she smiles. That does not surprise her in the slightest.

“We’re going to have enough onesies and jerseys to dress this kid until he’s a teenager because of groups of women who love you.”

“What can I say? My pretty face attracts a lot of women.”

“How pretty would it be if I gave you a black eye?”

“I think I would still be at least in the top two of the most stunning men on the team.”

She hears the thwack of her ball in Killian’s glove. “You are never lacking in confidence, are you?”

“I think we both know the answer to that.”

All the time, she thinks.

He lacks it all the time, but he hides it until the darkness of night when it’s just the two of them. The demons have been coming out to play lately with the pressure of the season mounting, that possibility of greatness at the tip of his fingers, and with her due date getting closer as they’re all wrapped up in baseball.

The two of them wanted this more than anything, but their own parents screwed them over so badly that Emma gets the demons. She has them, too.

Not when they’re out here, though, and there’s nothing and no one in the world but the two of them.

“Did I tell you Ruth is coming to town next week?”

“Is she staying with us?”

“If that’s okay with you.”

“Yeah, of course, love. I’ll wash the sheets in the guest room and get some groceries delivered. She still on a pasta kick?”

“She definitely is. You should see the texts she ends me. I don’t think I’ve ever looked at that much pasta.”

“I have, but it wasn’t the good kind of pasta.”

“All pasta is good pasta.”

His ball hits her glove a little harder than she was expecting. Damn, Jones. “That, darling, is not true in the slightest. For instance, wheat pasta and then that pasta you burned.”

“That was one time,” Emma groans as she shakes out her hand while adjusting her stance. “I swear I can cook. I haven’t died of starvation yet.”

“It helps when cereal is available.”

Emma throws the ball as hard as she can at Killian, but he doesn’t even flinch when he catches it. She can throw a fantastic ball, too, so he definitely should have flinched.

Sweat is now dripping down her back, the humidity in the air seeping into her clothes and her skin, and maybe she should take her shirt off as well so she doesn’t get covered. Killian might have had the right idea there.

She is not taking her shirt off in the middle of Yankee Stadium no matter how badly she wants to. That would somehow not go well for her and someone would see, and she’d have even more shit to put up with. Emma’s definitely punching the next person to tell her that she looks like she’s going to pop any minute now.

She’s not.

But why the hell do people think that’s okay to say to a pregnant woman? She swears some people forget that pregnant women are still people all on their own.

“Twenty-nine, I love you, but if you keep making fun of me while killing my arm, you’re going to have to sleep on the couch. And the bad one, not the one in the living room.”

“Does your arm really hurt?”

“I may be a little sore from working out this morning. I’m mostly miserably hot even though I thought it was getting cooler out here. Can we move somewhere that never gets this hot?”

Killian nods and starts walking toward her. He takes his glove off and once he reaches her, he pushes the hair that’s curled on her face back up into her ponytail. “We can go someplace with air-conditioning right now. I feel like that’s an okay compromise.”

“After you shower, right?”

“What? I don’t smell great right now?”

“I already told you that you smelled awful.”

Killian hums as the corners of his lips turn up, and she doesn’t have enough time to run before he’s wrapping his arms around her and pulling her in until she’s covered in sweat and the awful smell of someone who desperately needs to shower. It’s a million times worse than when he leaves his sweaty clothes in the hamper instead of putting them in the washing machine.

“Stop,” Emma groans as she pushes him away. “Killian, stop. I’m going to smell awful.”

“I think it’s too late for that.”

“Oh my gosh,” she laughs as she stops trying to pull back. She’s already screwed. This is disgusting. “You’re a child.”

He shrugs and smiles so widely that his eyes crinkle. “I’m in my thirties, and I play baseball for a living. I’ve never had a reason not to be.”

“Well, that’s not true.”

“No, I suppose it’s not.” Killian releases her from his embrace before stepping away. “C’mon, Swan. There’s no one in the clubhouse. We can go shower. I’ve got clothes for you.”

“If you wanted to get me naked, all you had to do was say.”

“I have been trying for that this entire time.”

Emma shakes her head and chuckles. “You’ve got an early game tomorrow, and you actually have to play. Let’s go shower and then go home. I’m exhausted, and I was promised a foot rub.”

-/-

“What the hell?”

Emma shifts in bed and twists her neck to look at Killian. “What?”

The mattress dips and suddenly Emma feels Killian’s pressing into her back as his arm loops over her stomach. “Look at this.”

She looks down at his phone and at the video that’s playing. It’s the two of them from last night when they were throwing the ball back and forth.

What the hell?

  
“How did someone get this?”

“I don’t know. There must have been someone still in the stands that saw us and then they sent it in to SportsCenter.”

“Usually I’d be bothered by something like this, but I look like a hell of a lot better pitcher than you here. Look at that accuracy. And according to the caption, I’m a catch.”

“It also says it’s unfair to me because we’re playing two on one.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs as she leans back into Killian’s embrace. “Have you already looked at the comments?”

“Against my better judgment, I did. There were quite a few about my lack of a shirt and how they could understand how you got pregnant.”

“I feel like a hell of a lot of people have no idea how sex works then.”

Killian snickers into the back of her neck and drops his hand to her stomach. “You do have great accuracy, love.”

“I learned from the best.”

“Rob?”

“Oh, yeah, definitely, Rob. He’s undoubtedly the best pitcher on the team.”

“I guess you’ll have to keep practicing with me until I get that title.”

“We’re going to be practicing for a long damn time then.”

Killian pulls her back against him and buries his nose in her neck. His scruff is prickly against her skin, but the burn of it is pleasant as his lips run across the cords in her neck before settling just below her ear.

“Are you and the kid going to gang up on me or are we going to let him like me for a little while?”

“I think we’ll let him like you until he’s five, and then he’s my partner in crime.”

“That is the most reasonable plan you’ve ever had.”

She huffs and places her hand over Killian’s on her stomach. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, babe. Though, I’m definitely going to be the one to teach Jace how to throw a ball. You suck.”

“Aren’t you the one who broke the Taylor’s window?”

“I said teach him how to throw. That was a catching problem on my part. We’ll have to let Scarlet teach him all about that.”

“The thought of Scarlet teaching my kid anything is terrifying.”

“ _Please_. You trust Will with your life.”

Killian nods into her neck again and places a soft kiss there. “I trust him with you, yeah. Do you want some breakfast? We need to get ready for work soon.”

“Do we still have that fruit bowl?”

“Mhm.”

“I’ll have that. Just give me five more minutes and then we can get up and get ready.”

“Five more minutes tends to mean about an hour.”

“No,” Emma sighs. “Five minutes. I mean it.”

“Fine, Swan, we can have five more minutes.”


	8. Three and a Half Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: I would like to request a cmiyc promt, some road trip adventures when they are not traveling together, how they dealt with the distance and with the baby. Thank you 💛

**June 2023**

Emma: _That is not true._

Killian: _It most definitely is true._

Emma: _I don’t believe you._

Killian: _All these years together and you still don’t believe me._

Emma: _Because there’s no way in hell that Scarlet is walking around in a speedo._

Emma: _The thought alone is horrible._

Killian: _I can send you a picture._

Emma: _I will stab my own eyes with a fork._

Killian: _You’d like me in a speedo._

Emma: _No one needs to see that much of you._

Killian: _Swan, I hate to tell you this, but you’ve seen me naked._

Killian: _And I know it doesn’t make you want to stab your own eyes out._

Emma: _You’re so full of yourself._

Killian: _If I was home, you could be full of me._

Emma: _That is undoubtedly the worst pick-up line you’ve ever used._

“She’s right, you know?”

“Huh?”

“Emma. She’s right.”

Killian closes out his phone and drops it to his lap, adjusting himself in his seat and pulling at his shorts to make them a little longer. “Are you reading my texts?”

Robin shrugs. “We’re sitting close, and you are holding your phone in a pretty obvious way.”

“Didn’t take you for the nosy type.”

“Didn’t take you for the type to not be able to flirt with your wife.”

Killian chuckles and leans his head back. “Locksley, there are about a million jokes I could make about your single status right now.”

“How do you know I’m single?”

He turns his head to the side and lifts his glasses off his face. “Are you not?”

“Oh, no, I am, but I wanted to fuck with you.”

“What about your date with – ”

“There’s possibility there, but I’m not sure. I don’t…I know I eventually have to get back out there, that it’s been practically forever, but no one’s ever made me feel like Marian did.”

Killian swallows and reaches over to clasp Robin’s shoulder. He gets it in a roundabout way. He can’t imagine losing Emma. He won’t let himself think of that fear too much, but the moments that he does allow the thoughts to creep in are the moments that make him have the slightest bit of understanding of Rob. He never thought he’d be able to move on from Milah, but he did. To have to move on from Emma though…

“You’re doing your best, mate.”

Robin huffs. “I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you should.”

“How’s the kid?” Robin asks. Okay, so they’re done with that conversation then. “Still adorable?”

“Didn’t you see him before we left?”

“Yeah, but I really want to change the subject.”

Killian sighs and picks his phone up again, clicking on Emma’s messages and going to the pictures she’s been sending him while he’s been gone. It’s been multiple pictures and videos every day for two weeks, which is longer than they ever go away from each other, and he’s desperately clinging to these small snippets of Jace.

And Emma.

“Emma took Addy, Lucy, and Jace to the zoo yesterday. I think Ariel and Morgan joined them. Apparently Jace loved all of the animals in the water.” Killian swipes over to a picture of Emma holding Jace in front of the penguin exhibit before swiping over to a picture of Emma holding Jace while he wails in front of a group of monkeys. “And then hated everything else.”

“Sounds about right. Has Emma recovered from being in charge of all of those kids?”

“She’s probably never going to talk to Liam and Elsa again.”

Robin laughs and leans forward to stretch out, moving his right arm in a few circles. “How long are we going to leave Scarlet to run around scarring all of the kids on the beach?”

“How long until we have to go to practice?”

“Two hours.”

  
  
“Then we give him another hour to even out those awful tan lines, and then we haul his ass out of here and get rid of his Speedo as soon as humanly possible.”

“I like the way you think.”

-/-

His phone is ringing.

Why is his phone ringing?

That is his phone ringing, right?

The tell-tale sound keeps going off, and Killian slowly opens his eyes and rolls over in bed until he’s fumbling for his phone, pulling it off the charger and sliding his finger across the screen.

“Hello?”

“Did I wake you?”

“Emma?”

“Oh shit. I did wake you. I’m sorry. Go back to bed.”

And then the phone line goes dead.

What the hell?

Killian sits up and straightens his back against the headboard before hitting Emma’s contact. It rings twice before she answers.

“I said go back to bed.”

  
  
“Swan, what the hell is going on?”

Emma sighs. It’s long and low, and Killian swears he can feel it in his bones three thousand miles away. “It’s nothing. Really.”

“It’s three in the morning. It can’t be nothing.”

“It’s technically six for me.”

“But it’s three for me.”

  
  
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m an asshole for waking you up.”

“No,” Killian corrects, putting his phone on speaker and dropping it to his lap while he starts stretching out his arms. If he’s this stiff later, he’s going to be goddamn awful on the mound tonight. “You’re not. Now, why’d you call? You’re never up this early.”

“I can be up this early.”

  
  
“Only when I drag you out of bed.”

  
  
Emma huffs, and then all of the sudden his phone is ringing again until he’s tapping at it and Emma’s face is suddenly in front of him.

“Hey, beautiful.”

“Are you even looking at my face?”

“I am,” he tells her. her hair is pulled back into a bun, flyaway pieces framing her face, and she’s got bags under her eyes he doesn’t think he’s ever seen. Her eyes are also red, either from lack of sleep or crying. Or both. God, he hopes it’s simply because she’s tired. “You’re beautiful.”

“You’re a liar who has some major bedhead.”

“Well, I was asleep, love.” Emma scrunches her nose up before wiping her eyes while yawning. “Sweetheart, as much as I love this conversation, I wish you would tell me what’s wrong.”

“What makes you think something is wrong?”

“I feel like I’m going in circles here, Swan. Help me out.”

Emma groans and falls back against the couch. He misses that couch far more than he ever thought he would. He also misses the woman having some kind of break down on top of it.

“I need you to come home,” she finally mumbles. “I am an independent woman who has always done fantastic on my own. I can do things on my own. I really can. But twenty-nine, if you aren’t home within the next twenty-four hours, I’m going to lose my damn mind.”

“You and I both know it’s going to be a little longer than that.”

“Fuck off.”

  
  
“Swan.”

  
  
“No, I mean it. Jace is regressing. Like, with his sleep, and I’m going crazy. Because, of course, he doesn’t just wake up and soothe himself back to sleep. He cries, and because I’m not a monster, I get up to make sure he’s okay. But I’m so tired. It’s like he’s a newborn again except less breakable, and sometimes I wonder why the hell we wanted to be parents when we both knew that our schedules are batshit crazy.”

“Is he asleep now?”

“Yep.”

  
  
“And you didn’t feel like going back to sleep, too?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

  
  
“Emma,” Killian sighs. He sinks back down onto the mattress, pulling the blankets up over him and propping his head in his hand while he looks at his phone. All he wants is to wrap his arms around her, but he can’t do that. Not yet. “I miss you, love. You’re not alone in that.”

“Which makes me feel far less pathetic.”

“I don’t think missing your partner makes you pathetic.”

  
  
“Calling me your partner makes us sound like we’re in business together.”

  
  
“Is lover better?”

“Oh my God,” Emma mumbles. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet you’re the one missing me.”

  
  
“Yeah, I am.” Emma blinks at him, small, beautiful smile on her face. “I don’t know. I feel like I should be used to not spending all of our time together. I mean, no offense, but I like our breaks. We need them to stay sane. But this is a really long one, and I need someone to help me with our kid. I’m also really horny, which is a word I absolutely _despise_ , and I miss your face.”

Killian has to bite his cheek to keep from bursting out into laughter. He shouldn’t laugh. It’s not funny. He feels the exact same way Emma feels. This swing used to be one of his favorites. He loves being out west, but that was before he had someone – two someone’s – waiting for him back home like he does now.

“When I get home, you can stare at my face as much as you want. You can stare at it when I’m the one who’s up with Jace. You can stare at it when I’m fucking you until you can’t breathe. You can stare at me as I do the dishes and clean up all the stuff Jace spills. You can stare at my face when it’s your literal job to stare at my face and tell the world when I’m sucking it up. Whatever you want, you can have.”

“I like the sound of you doing the dishes. That may be the sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

He scoffs before flashing his teeth. “I know you had meetings at home, which is why you two couldn’t travel with us, but next time the trip is this long, I’m not leaving you and Jace behind. You two should have seen Will at the beach yesterday.”

  
  
“I got the picture. I saw enough to know that Belle is a very lucky woman.” Her mouth flattens into a straight line. “If you ever tell Will that, I will murder you.”

Killian yawns. He tries to stop it, but it’s pretty much a hopeless task. “I promise I would never try to inflate Scarlet’s ego like that.”

“We would never hear the end of it.”

He yawns again. Dammit.

“Killian.”

  
  
“What?”

“Go back to bed.”

“No, no, I’m fine. I’m happy to talk to you.”

“It’s three in the morning for you. I shouldn’t have called. Go back to bed. I’ll call you before the game tonight, okay? I’ll facetime with Jace so you can see him.”

“Good. We all know I only really want to talk to him anyway.”

“You carry a child in your body for nine months, have it destroy your vagina, and then your husband likes the kid better than he likes you. Is it all worth it?”

  
  
“Aye,” Killian sighs, his smile widening at simply the thought of his family. “You know you’re my number one, sweetheart. Jace is simply _our_ number one. Together.”

“Well, as long as I’m beating the kid out.”

He huffs and closes his eyes before blinking them back open. “I love you, Swan. I hope you get some sleep and that Jace gets his act together.”

“I love you, too. See you in four days.”

“Three and half.”  
  


“Semantics.”

“Yeah, but the good kind here. I’m trying to get home to you. I promise.”

-/-

His shoulder hurts when he pitches that night.

More than it has and more than it should, and after the fourth inning, he asks to leave the game, calling Archie and getting a massage and praying that things get better.

The next day, it’s much less stiff, and sitting on the plane to San Francisco only bothers him a little bit.

But it doesn’t matter. None of it matters because they’re traveling to the last city they have to go to before he can go home.

To his bed.

To Jace.

To Emma.

They sweep the Giants, which feels fucking fantastic after losing to the Dodgers, and the more time he spends here, the more it feels wrong to be here without Emma. This was where a lot of things started for them. They kissed for the first time in the stands, and he swears his entire world stopped in that moment before starting again, his heart beating at a slightly different rate.

So when they get on their chartered plane and take off from the tarmac, Killian lets out a sigh of relief and tries to get some sleep so he won’t be beyond exhausted.

He obviously doesn’t sleep.

He feels every minute of the damn plane ride, ends up getting his computer out and going through the files his accountant sent him, which really doesn’t help how long the plane ride is, but eventually he sees the lights of Manhattan and feels his heart in his chest.

This is the best job in the world. Truly. But damn is it hard sometimes.

“You want to go get dinner?” Will asks him as they grab their bags from the overheads.

“It’s two in the morning, Scarlet.”

  
  
“I can guarantee half of the restaurants in the city are open.”

“I kind of want to get home, mate. Don’t you?”

Will shrugs. “Belle is in Detroit with an author. I think I could go for about two pizzas just for me.”

Killian hooks his backpack around his shoulders. “Maybe tomorrow. Call and I’ll see if we can come meet you for lunch.”

  
  
“I’m pretty sure you two will be otherwise occupied.”

  
  
“Don’t be gross.”

“I meant with your kid. Look whose mind was in the gutter.”

Killian rolls his eyes. “Call tomorrow around noon. We’ll go get pizza with you.”

“Can I come to the house in my pajamas and we order in?”

He claps his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Even better.”

The car ride back to the brownstone takes exactly twenty-three minutes. He shouldn’t know that. He definitely shouldn’t have kept track, but the anticipation of being home is enough to have his leg shaking up and down. He’s been away before. Hell, he’s spent half of the past twelve years on the road, but wanting to be home this time has been different.

Jace has apparently been hellish for Emma. She’s exhausted between taking care of him and working and worrying about Killian and the team.

She deserves some help other than David stopping by with Chinese takeout once.

Killian’s quiet as he pads into the kitchen from the garage, flicking on the lights and dropping his bags to the ground. He’ll get them in the morning when he does laundry. Slowly, he moves to the stairs and walks up them until he gets to the top floor. Jace’s room is open, the kid fast asleep in his crib, and while Killian wants to hold him, he dares not wake him up and mess up his sleep schedule any more than it’s already messed up. If he’s asleep right now, it’s pretty much a miracle.

Miracles shouldn’t be awoken.

His bedroom door, however, isn’t open, and when Killian cracks it open, it creaks. He’ll have to fix that tomorrow…which is later today. He’ll fix it at some point.

Emma’s face is buried in her pillow, her body stretched out over almost half of the bed, and Killian has to stifle his laugh. She’s never going to be someone who stays on her side of the bed.

She’s also about to have the shit scared out of her because that happens every damn time he comes home.

“Swan,” Killian whispers, taking the gentle approach. She doesn’t move, so he moves to climb into bed, the mattress dipping under his weight before he pushes at her shoulder. “Emma, sweetheart, wake up.”

Suddenly, she jolts, falling backward and catching herself at the edge of the mattress with her eyes wider than he’s ever seen them. “What the fuck?”

“Ah, just how I like to be greeted when I come home.”

“Shut up. My heart is going to leave my body.”

  
  
“That’s not possible.”

“It’s about to be possible.”

He doesn’t bother holding in his chuckle now, laughing as he leans forward to wrap his arms around Emma, pushing her down to the mattress before climbing on top of her. Neither of them move, her chest still quickly moving up and down, and he waits for her to calm down.

Damn. It feels good to be home.

Emma reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ear, her mouth softly curling at the corners. “That was the longest road trip in existence. I’m still not entirely sure you’re here.”

“I’m here. You’re not having some kind of awful hallucination.”

“Good,” she laughs before pushing up to press her mouth into his. As always, it’s magic to be with her, to feel the softness of her lips and her skin pressing into the roughness of his beard that grew out a little too much while he was on the road. He’s tired, his body beyond exhausted, but there’s nothing else he’d rather be doing than lying in his bed kissing his wife after not being able to do that for weeks. “Your beard is long.”

“I’ll shave it tomorrow,” he promises, mouth still ghosting over hers.

“I kind of like it.”

“The shave can wait.”

“But it does itch.”

“I’m getting mixed signals here, love.”

  
“I,” she starts as his lips trail to her jawline in search of the spot that always riles her up. “I-I mostly just want you.”

“Mhm, I like that answer.”

His next few movements are anything but graceful. They’re slow and clumsy, and he fumbles with the damn drawstring on Emma’s pajama bottoms that she had tied far too tightly. She can’t stop laughing at him, the sound bouncing around the walls of their bedroom, and he swears when he pushes inside of her that she’s saying something about a stain on the t-shirt that’s now in a pile of clothes at the foot of the bed.

“Are you delusional?” he asks as he starts to get into a rhythm that’s comfortable for the both of them.

“I told you I wasn’t getting a lot of sleep.” Her nails scratch along his back, and she loops her calf around his ass, pushing him further into her. “Neither were you.”

“We can go to sleep after this.”

  
  
“Ah, my favorite part of sex – the sleeping afterward.”

It’s Killian’s turn to laugh as he kisses Emma, the sound getting caught up with her. They’re both delusional, both too tired to be doing this, but it feels so damn good to be connected with her like this.

It’s coming home in every single way.

“Did you see Jace?” Emma asks sometime later as her head rests on his chest, the sweat there dried.

“Aye, I saw him. Thought it best not to wake him though.”

“I would have murdered you.”

“Oh, I know you bloody would have. That was the first thought I had.”

“You know me so well.”

He runs his hand down her back until his fingers are tapping along her ass. “I know better than to wake a baby. I’ve been doing this dad thing for a few months. I think I’ve got the hang of it.”

  
  
“You just majorly jinxed us.”

“Maybe so.”

Emma sighs and turns her cheek from his chest. He feels her press a kiss to his collarbone, and he leaves one on her hairline in response.

“What time do you have to go to practice tomorrow?”

“I’m not. I’m going to run on the treadmill here. What time do you have to go into work?”

“Five.”

“And how long do you think we’ll have before Jace wakes us up?”

“Somewhere between an hour, if this past week has been any indication, or four hours if he’s miraculously back to normal now that you’re home.”

“So we best get our sleep while we can then.”

“Yes,” Emma groans, falling off of him and flopping back onto the mattress, her hair getting tangled and a ridiculous smile on her face. “That is exactly what I was thinking.” She sits up and immediately leans over to press her mouth into his. “Glad you’re home, Jones.”

“Glad to be home, darling.” He kisses her again, holding onto her a bit tighter when she attempts to fall away from him and back to the mattress. “I’ll get the kid when he wakes up.”

“I have never loved you more than I do in this moment.”

  
  
“I’ll keep that in mind. I love you. Let’s get some sleep.”

  
  
“Love you, too, twenty-nine.”

“Oh, Will is coming over for pizza tomorrow.”

Emma groans. “As long as he isn’t wearing a speedo, I don’t care.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope these are bringing a little sunshine to your days! I'm still writing them and taking requests, but I'm excited to say that my Rewrite-a-thon story is going to start posting this week! So these may post a little less frequently 😘


	9. The Wedding (for real)

**June 19 th, 2021**

Ruth wants them to stay apart tonight.

It’s some kind of tradition or superstition, and as an athlete, Killian gets it. He does. He is all about doing the same stupid thing over and over again because it was happening on a day where something good happened. When he made it to his first post-season, he didn’t shave until the last ball was played. In 2018 when they made it to the World Series, he wore the same pair of socks every day. He washed them, but it was still the same pair of socks.

(He’s too particular about cleanliness not to wash things.)

But those were things he needed in order to convince himself that they were going to win, that he was going to be able to do it, and that everything was going to be alright.

He doesn’t need to spend the night away from his wife the night before their wedding.

The thing is that they can’t exactly tell anyone that they eloped over a month ago. It would break their family’s hearts, and he and Emma are committed to keeping that secret between the two of them.

That was their day, just them, and it’s not something to be shared.

He’s been wearing his wedding ring on a chain around his neck for the past month, and God, he can’t wait to get to put it on his finger tomorrow even if he’ll have to put it right back on the chain for games.

They likely shouldn’t have picked a wedding date right in the middle of baseball season, but this is the date that worked for everyone.

No game happening.

No work for Liam and Elsa.

Ruth could come to town.

And no one was so pregnant that they couldn’t attend.

(Anna told him that if they got married while she was eight months pregnant with twins she would murder him, so they obviously changed the original date.)

“Mom, I’m not doing that.”

“It’s tradition.”

“I stayed apart from David when we got married,” Mary Margaret adds in as they walk down the hallway after paying the restaurant for the rehearsal dinner.

“I’m staying in my own damn apartment,” Emma huffs. “I like my bed and my stuff, and I don’t want to have to sleep on the rock-hard bed in your spare bedroom.”

“Okay, well, you stay home, and Killian can stay at Liam’s.”

Emma stops walking and crosses her arms over her chest before briefly glancing at him. She is not happy, and if she didn’t love her family, he imagines there would be some kind of strangulation happening right about now.

Well, if there also wasn’t the threat of jail as well. That might also keep her from doing it.

“I appreciate you both looking out for tradition and any possible horrible things that may happen to us if we don’t stay apart,” Killian sighs, “but this wasn’t something we were planning on doing and neither of us are interested in it. If down the road we don’t work out, feel free to say ‘I told you so.’”

“Are you serious?”

“As anything.”

Killian glances over at Emma, at the small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. If he looks at her, he can ignore the disapproving stares of Mary Margaret and Ruth. It was Ruth who was insistent, but now, he might be a little more scared of Mary Margaret.

“Emma,” Ruth sighs, “won’t you please do this? It’s tradition, and it would mean so much to me to get to spend this night with you.”

Emma sighs and tilts her head up to look at the ceiling. She’s got on a short white dress tonight, and it flows off her body from the waist down, but it’s tight around her chest where the material barely covers her breasts. He’s been distracted by it all bloody night and the way that his mother’s ring hits in the concave between her boobs, but now as her neck is elongated, all he can focus on is the smoothness of her skin and the way her summer tan accentuates all of her features.

Beautiful.

“I’m sorry, but no,” Emma finally says. “I will see you both at nine tomorrow morning, and you will be with me until I walk down the aisle at six. That’s so much time, and I would much rather spend the night with Killian. I don’t think we’re going to be cursed.”

“Let the woman go,” David yells from the elevator door. “I’m ready to go to sleep.”

“David speaks the truth,” Killian laughs, reaching over to thread his fingers through Emma’s. “It’s been a long, wonderful day, and I cannot thank you both enough for it. Let’s all go home, though, get our beauty sleep. We’re all going to need it. There’s only so much editing the photographer can do.”

Mary Margaret and Ruth finally relent, and David manages to drag them out of the restaurant where they have been camping out for the last several hours, toasts given and delicious food eaten as half of the people they knew came up to he and Emma to congratulate them and talk about their excitement for tomorrow. The wedding has ended up being much bigger than either of them intended, mostly because of the sheer number of people they know and getting carried away with the help of Mary Margaret, Ruby, Elsa, and Anna. It’s honestly been insane and a whirlwind with the season taking up most of his time, and after they got married last month, neither of them have cared much about what this wedding will be like.

It’s a celebration with their friends and family, and if everyone else is happy, he will be too.

Though, he is excited to see Emma’s dress. He’s not seen it yet, but he knows he’ll find her beautiful in anything.

Killian tugs on Emma’s hand, and they start walking to the elevator, heading down to the lobby to get his car from the valet. There are photographers waiting outside, and he hears Emma groan. He squeezes her hand, wishing there was some other way to comfort her from the nuisance that are gossip reporters, but there’s nothing they can do now besides get his keys, get in the car, and go home.

“Was Ruth driving you crazy too?” Emma asks as they start slipping out of their clothes in their closet. “I know she means well, but oh my gosh, I never realized how much of a traditionalist she could be until the past few weeks.”

“I mean, it’s not unheard of for couples who already live together to stay apart the night of the wedding.”

“No, it’s not, but I still didn’t want to do it. I mean, have you slept on the bed in the guest room at David’s? It’s awful.”

“You could take the couch.”

“I promise they wouldn’t let me.”

Killian chuckles and hangs his shirt up before taking off his belt and his pants as Emma unclasps her bra. “Tomorrow you’ll wear the pretty white dress and carry a far too heavy bouquet, and everyone will be so amazed by your beauty that they won’t care that you kept bucking their traditions.”

“Getting a little cheesy there, Jones.”

“It happens sometimes.”

Emma shakes her head and bends over to grab one of his t-shirts. She doesn’t bother to hang up her dress or put away her bra or her shoes, and one day he will stop hoping that she’ll clean up her clothes.

Maybe.

Possibly.

Probably not.

He ends up picking up her clothes and putting them away after he’s changed into a pair of shorts, and he finds Emma in the bathroom taking off her makeup and washing her face. It takes her a little longer than usual to do it, and by the time she’s finished, he’s scrolling through Netflix trying to find something for them to watch as they fall asleep.

“You went ahead and got yourself comfortable, huh?” Emma laughs as she gets into her side of the bed and pulls the covers up to her chest.

“You took forever to take your makeup off.”

  
  
“Had to make sure there wasn’t any left. I’d definitely get, like, the biggest zit in the world, and believe it or not, I want the pictures to look nice tomorrow.”

“They could always airbrush it out. As long as it’s not too big. I was kidding about the photoshop thing earlier.”

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, reaching over to gently shove him. “Did we bring any leftovers home?”

  
  
“No, but I know Scarlet took a box home. You could always call him.”

“Would it be crazy if I did that?”

“Yeah, love, yeah it would.”

“It was really good food.”

Killian puts the remote down and leans over to wrap his arm around Emma’s waist and pull her closer to him. She’s warm, even if her feet are cold, and he breathes in the lingering scent of her perfume as she settles against him.

“We have some food in the fridge. Or I can make you something.”

“None of that will be the same as Will bringing me the leftovers.”

Killian laughs into her neck and then kisses the skin there. “I know for a fact that you’re going to brunch in the morning, so I think you’ll be able to make it.”

  
  
“Don’t be jealous that my friends plan on me having better food than Liam plans on you having.”

“Well, maybe I’ll have to attend the brunch as well.”

Emma twists around in his arms, elbowing him and kicking him before she settles so that the tips of her nose brushes against his. “I’m so glad we got married at the courthouse. I mean, I’m excited to wear my dress and to have the big party, but I really liked that day.”

“Aye, me too.”

She presses forward to glide her lips over his, soft and slow, and neither of them are in a hurry to get anywhere. He loves when they get to be like this, when they have time to tease and explore and not be in a rush to get to a certain destination.

There’s always somewhere to be, something to do, a game to play, someone to talk to. There’s always a rush.

Right now, however, the only rush is the beating of his heart and the way that the woman in his arms makes him feel.

Frustrated and exasperated and so damn in love that he’ll pick up her shoes when she leaves them around, which is always.

When they come together, it’s in that same gentle, slow motion that they were following earlier. Emma’s hair is cascading down her back in long, soft waves, and when she bends down to mold her lips to his again, he shifts his hips up to keep their rhythm as his hands settle on her back sides and hold her down to him. Who knows how many times they’ve done this and how many times they’ll do it in the future? It’s the past and present all at once, but he doesn’t care to be in any moment other than this one.

Damn is he glad that she’s not staying at the Nolans’ tonight. He can’t imagine her being anywhere else other than here with him.

When he wakes in the morning, it’s to the softness of Emma’s lips pressing against his chest, her mouth tracing his skin. Slowly, Killian blinks his eyes open, a smile curving on his lips, and while he expects Emma to be still be naked next to him in bed, she’s not. Instead she’s clothed in a button-down and a pair of shorts, her hair freshly washed and her face bare of makeup so he can see her freckles.

They come out more in the summer, and he’s rather fond of them.

“What are you doing out of bed?” He mumbles, reaching over for her and pulling her back to him. She easily falls into him, resting half on top of his leg while his hands reach out for her. “It’s not time for you to go yet.”

“We were up pretty late there, twenty-nine, and you slept in. So, yeah, it’s time to go. Elsa said she’s almost here to come get me.”

Killian juts his lower lip out. He knows Emma will find it ridiculous, which is exactly why he does it. “We’re technically already married. Want to play hooky?”

“No,” she laughs, getting up to lean back down over him so she can kiss him. “I’ll see you at the end of that aisle.”

“Well, technically you’ll see me for the pictures beforehand.”

  
  
“Semantics.” She kisses him again, lingering this time. “I love you. I will see you later. You’re going to be the most handsome man there tonight.”

“I better damn well be. I love you, Emma.”

And then she’s getting up and walking away, picking up a large tote bag, a backpack, and her dress before she’s walking out the bedroom door.

What a lucky son of a bitch he is.

Killian doesn’t have anywhere to be until noon. None of his friends or his brother are calling and texting and badgering him to do things, so he gets up and gets dressed to go for a run. It’ll be hot later, June in New York not exactly pleasant weather, but this morning, it’s nearly perfect, even if he has to avoid a few photographers as he makes his way to the park. They’ve been worse than usual lately, the wedding putting them into overdrive looking for gossip and exclusives, and Killian’s doing his best to ignore them. He always has, especially when people are trying to attack Emma.

He is not going to let them ruin is mood today, not when he’s got miles ahead of him and a damn big party to attend tonight.

He runs for almost an hour. Technically today should be a pitching practice day for him, but Al took him out of the rotation so he’s only missing one game while in Spain instead of the two he was slotted to. He’ll have to do some kind of practice, but how many times does a man get to have a honeymoon?

Well, considering all goes well and all that.

He stops for coffee before he goes home, drinking it on the walk back, and he slips in the back entrance of his apartment complex before taking the elevator up and hoping into the shower the moment he gets inside. It’s like it’s any other day.

Except it’s not.

“Where are you?”

Killian jumps at the sound of Liam’s voice, and he quickly turns off the water and grabs a towel to tie around his waist. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Making sure you’re not still asleep.”

“It’s almost noon. Have I ever slept in that late?”

  
  
“All the time.”

“Since I was a teenager then?”

“Eh, maybe. Not that I know about, though, unless you had a late travel day. You going to put some clothes on?”

“You come into my place, unannounced, and you’re going to complain that I don’t have clothes on?”

“I’m your brother. That’s what I do. Now, come on, Elsa told me I should take you out for lunch. I apparently didn’t think about that.”

“You’re a spectacular best man.”

He shrugs. “I do what I can, which has mostly been keeping Addy and Lucy out of their dresses so they don’t stain them before tonight. Who puts kids in white?”

“Your wife picked out those dresses.”

“Of course she did,” Liam chuckles. “But seriously, finish getting ready. Robin is getting us some food, and we’re going to eat at the venue.”

“What? I don’t deserve to dine in?”

“Do you want to?”

“No, I’d much rather sit on the couch and eat.”

“Exactly. Let’s go.”

When they get to the pier, Robin, Will, Eric, August, Kris, Graham, and David are already there, food and drinks spread out across the table in front of them. They’re in the middle of some debate about Thursday’s game, Will arguing with Robin about him misreading one of Will’s signs, and they don’t notice when Killian sits down and grabs a bowl of pasta from the center of the table.

“Pleasant, don’t you think?” Killian asks David.

“Exactly how I would want all of my friends to be acting on a day when we’re all supposed to get along.”

“It’s worse if they’re also your coworkers.”

David chuckles and takes a sip of his water. “Did Ruth break into your house in the middle of the night to try to separate the two of you?”

“God, no,” Killian laughs. “And if she did, I’m sure she would have been in for quite the sight.”

“Please remember that you’re talking to Emma’s brother when you speak to me.”

Killian shrugs and smiles. “What? You don’t want to be having this conversation?”

“I want to be having anything but this conversation.”

  
  
“Okay, we can talk about last year’s Christmas when you – ”

“Jones, shut the fuck up.”

Killian chuckles and pokes his pasta with his fork. “No, Ruth didn’t come and get Emma in the middle of the night. I was almost convinced she and Mary Margaret would, so I’m thankful that she didn’t. Emma left so damn early this morning, though, that she might as well have stayed somewhere else.”

“A lot goes into them getting ready for today. Though, honestly, I’m pretty sure Ruby has all of them getting drunk on mimosas.”

“Oh, I would bet on that.”

“What are we betting on?” Will interrupts. “Are we betting that Emma doesn’t walk down the aisle tonight? Is she going to be a runaway bride?”

“Don’t be an asshole, Scarlet,” Robin mutters. “You can’t say shit like that.”

“What? We all know I’m joking. Emma is far too good for the man, but she loves him. She’s definitely going to show up…probably.”

Killian flips up his finger at Will and keeps eating his pasta. “I feel like I was much more supportive on your wedding day.”

  
“Oh, you were, but I like to switch things up. I keep it interesting.”

They keep eating and jokingly arguing and not agreeing on a single thing, but then they turn on the game tapes that most of them are supposed to be watching for Monday’s game. It’s like it’s any other day, all of them messing around and groaning about mistakes, except after a few hours, they start changing out of their lounge clothes and into black tuxes with crisp white shirts that they’re under strict instructions not to spill anything on. Emma is just across the hall from him now, and Ariel keeps walking over to make sure that nothing has been ruined.

Between Ariel, Mary Margaret, and Ruth, none of them have any room for error.

Maybe those three should be their coach instead of Al.

The photographer comes and gets Killian and all of his groomsmen around four, they take all of the pictures on the list that he and Emma made up, and then Killian is told to walk out onto the large deck that’s just outside the ballroom. The Hudson is right below them, an expanse of sparkling blue water that makes a spectacular backdrop, and he tries to focus on it even though he knows that he’s standing out here so he and Emma can take their pictures.

She’s been texting him on and off all day, little updates about how things are going, and it’s been odd knowing she’s just around the corner but not with him. And he would be a liar if he said he wasn’t curious what her dress looked like. He never thought he would be a man who cared about something like that, who thought that a dress could make any difference in how he looks at the woman he loves, but he knows that Emma loves this dress. If she does, that’s enough for him to look at her that little bit differently.

Like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, because to him, she is.

What a day for some sentimental thoughts.

“Hey, handsome,” she sighs, and he immediately turns around at the sound of her voice. “I know you love the water, but I don’t think jumping in is really an option right now.”

“I mean, I could, but this was a bloody expensive tux.”

“Be a shame to ruin it and all that.”

Killian’s finally able to look away from her face and the bright smile there to look down at her dress. It’s not a bright white, exactly. It’s off a little bit, and it hugs her until it gets to her waist where it loosens and begins to flow until it hits the floor. Pearls cover it, a few at the top and then more and more as his eyes scan to the bottom of her dress. It’s different than what he expected, but it’s Emma.

This is Emma.

And she’s gorgeous and radiant, and while he’d marry her again in a courthouse with no pomp and circumstance, he’s glad they get to do this too.

“You look – ”

“I know,” she finishes for him. “We clean up pretty well, Jones.”

“Don’t I know it?” He leans in and brushes his lips over her cheek, lightly so he doesn’t mess up her makeup. “All of our friends are staring at us from inside.”

“Is it creepy?”

“It’s terrifying.”

“Addy and Lucy are very excited. Have you seen them yet?”

“I haven’t had the honor, but I have talked to them on the phone several times. They want to know if they get to tear up your flowers.”

“What did you tell them?”

“I obviously told them yes, so you best watch out for that.”

“I’ll be on the look-out. You want to take some pictures until our faces hurt?”

“Obviously. It’s what I’ve dreamed of since I was a young lad wondering just what this day would be like.”

She gently pushes at his chest. “You had anything to drink there, twenty-nine?”

“I had one small glass of rum, which is nothing compared to the mimosa fest you went on.”

“Hey, now, that was mostly Ruby and Elsa. I, too, only had one glass. Wanted to make sure I’d be able to recognize you. You’re wearing almost the exact same thing as Liam. Wouldn’t want to marry the wrong Jones.”

“Don’t even suggest that.”  
  
“Are you two going to make out now or what?” Ruby yells from the entryway. “Because I need to know which parts of Emma’s makeup I have to fix!”

“She’ll never change, will she?” Emma laughs, her smile as radiant as he’s ever seen it.

“Never.”

They seem to take pictures for hours, pose after pose with just the two of them before they add in the bridal parties and family and have ticked off everything on the list. Emma wasn’t kidding when she said their faces would hurt from smiling so much, and he knows that she has heels on so he imagines her feet are killing her. But soon enough, he’s having to leave Emma back up in the bridal suite while he lines up at the front of the ballroom, ready for Emma to walk down the aisle with all of these people looking at the two of them.

What a weird tradition.

But hey, he gets to marry Emma twice, and he can’t really complain about that.

-/-

-/-

“How drunk is Kris right now?”

“Well, he’s starting talking about how much he loves ice, so I think he’s at least five drinks in.”

“Is it six-drink Kris that gets a little frisky?”

“Babe, he’s a married man and a father of two now. His tolerance dipped, and it’s now drink two where he gets frisky.”

“That would explain why he tried to touch my ass earlier.”

Emma laughs and moves her hand to gently shove Killian. His eyes crinkle with his smile, his summer tan making everything seem brighter, and she idly wonders if his face still hurts from smiling for pictures from earlier. Or, well, still smiling now. It’s got to be getting close to ten, and it doesn’t seem like anyone has left the reception. She can’t even remember a time where her face didn’t hurt or where her feet weren’t killing her despite the fact that she chunked her heels at least an hour ago.

It’s been a good day.

Like, really good.

She’s never really had an idea of what her wedding day would be like. It’s not something she imagined in much detail. Maybe it would be a small crowd, just her closest friends and family. This isn’t some extravagant thing, but it’s definitely much bigger than any sane person would call a small crowd. That’s all thanks to Ariel and her constantly coming up with people they forgot or Ruth asking if they could invite some of her friends since they all wanted to see her daughter getting married.

Emma’s heart still flutters every time she thinks about Ruth calling Emma her daughter.

But the extra people and flowers and lights really just make it one better, bigger party, and despite the fact that for awhile she kept getting pulled away to talk to everyone, she really hasn’t had to have that much interaction with the people who aren’t in her close circle.

That’s been nice.

Being able to dance with Killian and eat in a hidden room and not constantly be pulled apart at the seams has been that way too. Half the reason they got married at the courthouse was for fear that they wouldn’t be able to enjoy their wedding day, but that’s not at all what’s happened.

She’s happy. That still, somehow, surprises her sometimes, and she doesn’t want to take it for granted.

“You’re ridiculous, Jones,” Emma laughs, her hand sliding back to rest around Killian’s neck. They’ve had two slow songs in a row, and she’s enjoying the change of pace. “How much longer until I can get you out of this tux?”

His brows raise, and his smile turns salacious. “Look who’s getting frisky now.”

“I mean, I am expecting to get lucky tonight.”

“As you should be. Though, I’m not entirely sure how I’m supposed to get you out of your dress. Are you sewn into it?”

“There’s a small zipper on the side. Don’t break it.”

“Why? You planning on wearing this thing again?”

“I am obviously going to lounge around the apartment in it. No more sweatpants for me. Only gowns.”

“Seems practical.”

“I am always practical.”

Killian dips down and tugs her close as his mouth closes over hers. She can taste rum and cake on his tongue, and she appreciates the mixture of sweet and spice. His kiss doesn’t linger for long, but the feeling of it settles somewhere deep in her belly.

“I love you, my wife.”

“You just love calling me your wife.”

“I do. It’s got a nice ring to it. Makes me feel far more responsible than I am.”

Emma chuckles and shakes her head. He’s an idiot.

“I love you, too. Do you want to – ”

“Hey,” David interrupts, “can I borrow Emma for a minute?”

“What, mate?” Killian laughs, already letting go of her. “Do you not want to dance with me?”

David winks. “We’ll have our time later.”

“Promises, promises.”  
  


“Oh my God, stop.”

“Never, love.” Killian winks and starts stepping away. “Do you want another glass of wine?”

“I do. Oh, and one of those popcorn bags. The – ”

“The cake flavored kind, I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen a popcorn bar at a wedding before,” David says as he takes Emma’s hands in his and pulls her close. The song is changing to something faster, more upbeat, and while everyone else is changing how they dance, they don’t. “That’s kind of ingenious. I’ve always thought most wedding food was stuffy.”

“Says the man who had the most classic wedding menu in existence.”

David shrugs. “I can’t help it that I didn’t know I could sneak in some classic stadium food but put a gourmet twist on it so we didn’t seem cheap.”

“Eh, screw wedding traditions. Most of them are outdated anyway.”

David smiles and then spins her around, gently letting her go before pulling her back in as laughter rumbles in her chest. Never let it be said that David Nolan doesn’t know how to dance.

“You look beautiful tonight, by the way. I don’t remember if I got the chance to tell you that.”

“You did, but thank you. You don’t look too bad yourself.”

“What a roundabout way to say I am the most handsome man in this room.”

Emma rolls her eyes. Her brother is also an idiot.

“Maybe to Mary Margaret.”

“Fine, fine,” he sighs, “I guess I can allow you to think that your husband is the most handsome man in the room. How’s that feel, by the way? Any different?”

Emma hums and looks over David’s shoulder to see Killian already holding a glass of wine in one hand, some rum in the other, and a small bag of popcorn sticking out of his shirt as he talks to Will and Belle. He looks ridiculous, and she really should have thought more about having him carry three things.

“Not different,” she answers, trying to figure out what to say. She’s technically been married to Killian for over a month now, and she still hasn’t quite been able to articulate the feeling in her gut. “I don’t really know. I mean, we’ve been pretty much committed to each other from the beginning, and we’ve been living together for a year and a half. I feel like everything is the same, but it’s like…I don’t know. It’s like it feels more permanent that I get to have this family that I found.”

And that, she thinks, is exactly what she’s been trying to say this entire time.

Family.

She’s had David, Mary Margaret, and Ruth for a decade and a half now. She’s had Ruby and Graham for a little less time than that. Then came everyone from the team and all of their partners, including Liam and Elsa and their kids.

And Killian.

He’s her family. She’s known that for a long time now, but there’s something nice about it being official.

Mr. and Mrs. Killian and Emma Jones.

Some kind of official unit who pays joint taxes and argues over what’s for dinner and who has pictures of the two of them on the bookshelf and on the walls.

Never in a million years could she have imagined her life going this way, but it did.

And it really all started because David took her to a Yankees game when she was a teenager. It’s funny how life works like that.

“You deserve all of it and more, kid,” David whispers as he leans down to kiss her forehead. “Tell Killian I’ll steal him for a dance later.”

“Oh, I promise you he’ll somehow find you first.”

David lets go of her hands, and Emma maneuvers away from the dance floor to go get Killian. He’s still talking to Will and Belle, and when she walks up to him, he hands her the glass of wine, and she takes a sip while trying to figure out what the hell they’re talking about.

“He fucking misread my signal.”

Never mind. She knows exactly what they’re talking about.

“Scarlet,” Emma sighs, “just for tonight, let it go. You and Robin can keep having your lovers spat tomorrow when I am not in the country to hear about it.”

  
  
“I have an international plan. I can still call you.”

  
  
“He is not going to call you,” Belle promises. “I will make sure of it.”

“I know he still will, but maybe I won’t answer.”

  
  
“And after all the nice things I said about you today.”

  
  
“What nice things did you say about me today?”

“I said you looked beautiful and that you are definitely Killian’s better half.”

Emma smiles into her glass and glances over at Killian. He is simply shaking his head.

“That was last night,” Emma tells Will, “but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“Emma,” Lucy interrupts, tugging on Emma’s elbow. She’s miraculously still got no stains on her dress, but her flower crown is a little worse for the wear. “Anna says that we can throw the confetti soon.”

“Yeah? Did she tell you what time, kid?”

“In thirty minutes.”

“Well, I will be sure to be ready for you to throw the confetti at me in thirty minutes, okay? Make sure to get a little on your uncle.”

“That’s what Daddy said too.”

  
  
“Hey,” Killian grumbles, “tell your father he can – ”

“Do not finish that sentence,” Emma laughs, turning back to Killian. “Do you think we can get Ariel to pilfer us a few more bags of this popcorn and send them home with us before we leave?”

“I’ve already had it arranged.”

“Ah, you’re knocking it out of the ballpark already, babe.”

“I see the awful sports-related puns never stop.”

“Never.”

Emma’s not really sure where the time goes. One minute she’s talking to Killian, and then the next she’s being pulled away by Ruby and Mary Margaret for some pictures. Then there’s another bite of cake and half a glass of water, and she somehow talks to everyone she knows in half an hour before they’re all throwing little pieces of confetti up in the air as she and Killian walk down a hallway on their way to the car that’s going to take them back to the hotel they’re staying in tonight.

Even the ride to the hotel seems to go in the blink of an eye, like they’re carefully putting a seatbelt over her dress one minute and then trying to figure out how to get her out of the car without the material dragging against the concrete the next.

Time does seem to slow, though, when they get inside the room and Emma can feel Killian’s lips against her neck. They’re warm, much like he is, and a shiver runs down her spine until it settles deep in her belly so that she can have some of Killian’s warmth as well.

It seems to be never-ending.

“On the side, you said?” Killian whispers against her skin.

“What?”

“Your zipper? Where is your zipper?”

“Oh,” Emma laughs, craning her head back against the door, “yeah, it’s on the side. Don’t yank on it. We don’t want a pearl disaster in here.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

Emma’s chest heaves with want and with laughter, and it makes it difficult for Killian to get her zipper down. There was some kind of complicated part, and she ends up helping him, cursing under her breath when it gets stuck before they both get it down.

Team works makes the dream work and all that.

She really has to stop with the sports puns tonight, but her brain seems to always have them now.

Consequences of her job and her husband’s job, she guesses.

After her dress is finally off and carefully draped over a chair, they easily get Killian’s tux off, Emma’s fingers fumbling with the few buttons that are remaining before she tugs his pants down so that everything is resting on the floor. The bed is soft when she lands against it, but she really doesn’t have that much time to think about it when Killian’s head is suddenly between her thighs and she’s reduced to having no thoughts at all.

Damn, he’s good at that.

He’s also good when he sinks into her, warm and steady, and his hands interlace with her above their heads. It’s a gentle rhythm, loving and slow, and she savors the push and the pull, the give and the take, the want and the need.

The way that they fit together in some kind of far too cheesy, puzzle-like kind of way.

And tonight, there’s no added meaning to the way Killian thrusts into her. It’s the same as it almost always is, as it was when they first got together, when they fell in love, when they got married for real. It’s got her gulping for air as Killian kisses her and her hands squeezing his to hold onto the feeling of him for as long as she possibly can.

They’ve got forever, though, so maybe she doesn’t have to hold on too tightly.

Then again, why wouldn’t she when this is everything she never allowed herself to wish for?


	10. Put Me Back in the Ballgame

**July 2025**

Killian doesn’t know what to do with himself.

He’s cleaned the house. Every damn floor. That includes dusting the shutters and scrubbing the baseboards and running the vacuum twice before cleaning all of the hardwood and tile.

All of the beds are made, which is not an easy feat for how many pillows Emma likes to put on their bed, and all of Jace’s toys are in their containers. Killian knows that they’ll all be dumped out later, probably as soon as Jace wakes up from his nap, but it’s nice for once to not be worried about stepping on something and for his living room to not be a disaster.

Jace is one of the best things to ever happen to him, but Killian is still not used to how everything is beyond messy all of the time.

But not now.

Though, if it was still messy, at least he’d have something to do.

He’s cleaned the house, worked out, paid bills, set out chicken to defrost for dinner, and now, all he has to do is watch the game.

That’s not necessarily what he wants to be doing right now.

Not when he’s not the one on the mound or in the dugout and not when he still recognizes over half the faces in Yankees uniforms.

He could still be playing. He could. His arm hasn’t hurt in awhile, but that’s because he hasn’t been pitching several days a week and doing training and playing games. He has given his body the rest it needs, but damn if he doesn’t still ache.

It was his decision. He wanted it. It’s for the best.

Watching this season, though, not having any kind of regular job or connection or part of the team, is fucking weird.

But he watches because he loves the game and loves Will and Eric and Robin and all of the other guys on the team.

He watches because he likes to listen to his wife kick ass as a commentator.

She does every single time.

Sighing, Killian puts the vacuum on its dock in the closet and then walks over into the living room, plopping down on the couch and turning the volume up. They’re in the bottom of the sixth, the Yankees are winning, and he hears Emma telling some story about Will that he knows is one of the age-old tales that publicists feed commentators so they have something to say to fill dead air-time.

Emma hates having to use those, but she tries not to let too much of her own personal connection with the players in.

That doesn’t really work when fifty percent of what she’s asked about has to do with him. She says it doesn’t bother her, that she’s proud to be his wife and to get to tell stories of all of her seasons with him, but there’s this small part of him that will always hate whenever anyone makes her career about him. They’re intertwined, yes, but Emma has always stood out.

His phone rings in his lap, and Killian slides his finger across the screen.

“Hey, A.”

“Hey,” Ariel says, “did you get any of my emails today?”

“I haven’t checked. Why? What’s up?”

“I sent you some stuff about interviews. Fallon and Meyers both want you on. GMA and Kelly and Ryan want you and Emma on.”

“For what? We’re not promoting anything, and you know we’re keeping Emma away from as many cameras as possible.”

“She’s literally on TV right now.”  
  
“You know they only shoot from the shoulders up most of the time, unless it’s a rain delay or something.”

“They can do that on these shows.”

“With all of the crew that’s on those sets?” Killian clicks his tongue and stretches his arms above his head. “I don’t know. I have to talk to Emma. Why do they want us on, again?”

“It seems the two of you have become very popular on the internet because of a Buzzfeed article.”

“What the hell?”

“Yeah, yeah, I know it’s weird, but it’s one of those where they talk about reasons to watch sports, and then they list a bunch of attractive athletes. You’re on the list, and the author attached a link or whatever to some article about you, Emma, and Jace. It’s kind of blown up into its own thing. How have you not seen it?”

“Woah, woah, woah, do these people not realize I’m retired? They can’t watch me play unless they want to watch old games.”

“You’re literally missing the entire point.”

“No, I got it, A.”

“So will you do the shows?”  
  
“Eh,” he groans, running his hand through his hair, “that sounds a little too gimmicky to me, especially the morning show ones, and I told you I have to run it by Emma before I let you run with it.”

“Look, I get it,” Ariel sighs, and he has a feeling she’s about to do some of her famous convincing. “You’re a manager’s dream, Killian Jones, but you’re also my worst nightmare. I know you don’t like actually saying it, even though you just did, but you’re retired now. You’re going to have money coming in forever no matter what, but it wouldn’t help to grease the wheels a little bit, keep your star power alive while you stay under the radar figuring out the next big thing for you. I’m just saying that this could be good for the both of you. I’ll even make it so that the questions can’t be too invasive.”

“How are they not going to be invasive? They’re literally asking about my personal life. That’s why they want me on the shows.”

“I have my magic ways.”

Killian groans and leans back on the couch, running his hands through his hair and pinching his nose. “We’re keeping this pregnancy quiet as long as possibly can. The only way either of us would possibly agree to it is careful camera angles and no mention of the pregnancy.”

“How would they mention the pregnancy if they don’t know about it?”  
  
“Well, someone could see. Look, I don’t know. I’ll run it by Emma tonight, okay?”

Ariel’s sigh is deep on the other end of the phone, and he knows that she gets it, even if she’s exasperated with him. It’s been happening a lot more lately with her trying to learn to manage him when he’s not always in the clubhouse or on the plane, and the adjustment period is still new.

All of this is.

“She’s going to say no.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I know the two of you, I do. Is there any way I could convince you to do it, just you?”

Killian chuckles and rolls his eyes. He wouldn’t be opposed to going on a few late night shows. Those were always a good time. He’s just not going to have his life be put on a public platter without talking to his wife first. “Bye, A. Go bother your husband.”  
  
“He’s kind of in the middle of a game right now in case you haven’t noticed.”

“I’m sure you can still find a way to bother him.”

She scoffs. “I will hear from you by the morning, you asshole. Goodbye.”

And then the line goes dead.

Bloody frustrating woman.

Emma’s voice echoes from the television, and Killian turns his attention back to the game. From all accounts, this seems like any other run of the mill game where everything has been average. It’s not a blow out, there aren’t any spectacular plays, and it’d be a good game to put on for a nap.

Maybe that’s what he should be doing with his free time.

He should have done that earlier, though, because he knows that Jace will be up soon.

“My husband won three World Series in what a lot of people consider a very short career for a pitcher. I don’t think you can say that’s normal. There’s only a handful of men born in the last few decades that can say that, actually.”

“Of course,” Isaac adds, “but with the way you say it, you act as if he won all of those on his own.”

Oh fucking hell. Isaac and James need to go to another team or another network. Killian’s never listened to them much since he used to watch games on mute, but damn, it’s like they don’t know how to talk positively about anyone. Is that what viewers want?

“I have never once said that,” Emma corrects, tense. “It’s always been a team effort. The starting pitcher doesn’t even play the entire game, but you implied that my husband was a mediocre player when he was anything but. Of course, he had help. Will Scarlet, for instance, helped Killian in every game. These teams are like puzzles, and you have to have all of the pieces to get the end goal. But, I mean, damn, can we go one game without you interrogating me on Killian’s stats? He was a damn good player, and nothing is going to change that.”

“You don’t have to get so emotional about it. I’m simply doing my job.”

Fuck you, Isaac.

“Alright,” Emma sighs, the camera now showing them in the booth. She’s smiling, and to the rest of the world, she looks like she always does, but there’s a tightness in the tug of her lips that he doesn’t like. “Let’s look at a play of the game presented by Chase.”

And then the screen cuts to a double play from earlier, and Killian mutes the television and stands up. What just happened isn’t going to go over well with the network, and he already knows Emma isn’t going to be home late.

Killian sighs and walks upstairs until he gets to Jace’s room. Jace is standing up in his crib trying to climb over it, and when he looks up and sees Killian, he plops back down and pretends that he wasn’t just trying to do some kind of Mission Impossible escape. They’ve got to think about moving the kid to a bed soon. All of the books say he needs to be a little older, but Killian thinks Jace might be ready.

He and Emma likely are not.

“What are you doing there, lad?” Killian laughs, leaning against the doorframe.

“Sleeping.”

“With your eyes open?”

Jace giggles and closes his eyes, cheesing like he does every time Emma tries to get him to pose for a picture. The blue of his eyes disappears into thin lines. “We play ball?”

“How are you going to play ball with your eyes closed?”

One eye slowly opens before the other joins in. “I play baseball.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Killian sighs, walking into the room and reaching into the crib to grab Jace, kissing his cheek before brushing his curls off his forehead. “We will go and play baseball, and then we’re going to cook some dinner for Mommy. Does that sound good? Dinner?”

“Pizza?”

“No, lad, not pizza. We can have some chicken though.”  
  
Jace pouts.

“Yeah, I know. Pizza is better than chicken, but it’s all about balance, my boy.”

Killian and Jace go through their post nap time routine before Killian grabs the soft baseball they use with him and they walk out to their back patio. They have a little bit of green space back here, would have more if Killian would take the time to landscape and reorganize their furniture, and the thought has him making a mental checklist of that being his project for tomorrow.

Scratch that. Today is the end of the series, and Emma will be home for the next few days without having to go into the office or into the stadium. They could do it together, but he told her they’d have a day where they do absolutely nothing.

He intends to stick to that promise even if it’s nearly impossible for him to sit still.

He plays catch with Jace, which mostly consists of Jace tossing the ball up at such an angle that it immediately hits the ground and then drops dead. It’s that over and over again, but this tires the kid out and is something he genuinely enjoys. Killian will do absolutely anything in the world to make his son smile, and if that means chasing after a ball for an hour, he’ll do it.

That also means that when Jace gets exhausted while Killian is cooking dinner that he’ll deal with the meltdown and try to calmly explain to a toddler that it’s okay that the blue marker isn’t anywhere to be found because he can color with all of the others.

That doesn’t really fly when all he wants is a blue marker.

Obviously, he’s really knocking this whole dad thing out of the park.

The alert on Killian’s phone goes off, and he pulls up the camera to see Emma pulling into the garage. He opens his mouth, about to tell Jace that Emma’s home, but he decides to let it be a surprise. Maybe that way the kid will get out of his funk for a moment and be happier.

Or he’ll have a meltdown in front of Emma.

At this point it’s really a guessing game.

In a few minutes, Killian hears the sound of her footsteps on the stairs, and then she’s rounding the corner and moving into the kitchen. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail, loose pieces around the front framing her face, and she’s not wearing any shoes. When she left the house today she was in heels and her hair was cascading down her back in waves, and if he couldn’t see the bags under her eyes and see the tightness in her smile, he’d know she was tired from her change in attire.

“Mommy,” Jace squeals when he looks up and sees her. Killian steps away from the salad he’s fixing and helps Jace down, and then he’s running toward Emma and waiting for her to pick him up. “Hi.”

“Hi, baby,” she sighs, kissing his cheek and brushing his curls back. “I missed you. Did you and Daddy have a good day?”

He eagerly nods his head, and Killian lets out a little sigh of relief. Maybe he’s not fucking this whole parenting thing up as much as he constantly thinks he is.

He’s not Brennan. He’s never going to be Brennan. But damn if he doesn’t still think he’s going to find other ways to screw his kids up.

Killian goes back to cutting up strawberries and Emma and Jace talk, and before he knows it, she’s walking over to him. He twists his head in anticipation, and Emma brushes her lips over the corner of his mouth before managing to plant a firmer kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hi. How was your day?”

She rolls her eyes. “I’ll tell you about it later. What are we having for dinner?”

“The Italian chicken and some salad. I can pop some bread in the oven if you want me to.”

“I really need the carbs.”

“Then bread it is.”

“Thank you,” she sighs before adjusting Jace on her hip and then setting him back down on the barstool. “Look at this beautiful drawing. You know, I found a blue marker in my purse today. I think it might belong to you.”

Emma Jones, always saving the day.

They eat dinner, exchanging their normal small pleasantries, talking about their days without really talking about them. It’s not unusual for Emma to still take awhile to figure out how she wants to phrase things and open up about them, but it’s been awhile since it’s been like this, especially because he knows she didn’t have a good day.

Maybe she doesn’t want them to have to talk in front of Jace.

So they don’t.

They eat and do the dishes and then settle down in front of the television. Jace will only watch the Trolls movie at the moment. It doesn’t matter what iteration, as long as it’s got brightly colored singing creatures in it, and Killian tries to pay attention. He really does. But he’s distracted by a group text with the team as they discuss dinner plans for tomorrow on their day off. He’s still included in the group, even when most of it doesn’t pertain to him anymore, and he gets caught up trying to convince them to all go for pizza since Jace mentioned it earlier and it sounds damn good. He doesn’t need to be eating that, but for all that he still works out, he might deserve it.

Emma will definitely want it.

Or maybe not. He’s not sure when food is going to repulse her or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, do you – ”

Killian looks up from his phone, and he sees that Emma’s slumped down into the couch cushions, her chest rising and falling, and she and Jace are asleep.

She’s going to kill her neck if she falls asleep like that.

“Love,” he whispers, nudging her until her eyes blink open. “Hey, let me have Jace, and I’ll put him to bed. You can go upstairs, yeah?”

She nods and helps get Jace off of her until he’s in Killian’s arms and Emma is sleepily walking upstairs. He follows, turning for Jace’s room while Emma heads to theirs, and even though it only takes him five minutes to get Jace down, Emma is already in bed when he makes it to their bedroom.

Silently, he crawls onto the mattress, raising the comforter and settling underneath it as he inches closer to Emma until her back is pressed into his chest and her feet are tucked between his calves. She’s got socks on, thankfully, so it’s not like there’s ice against is skin for once. Emma sighs back into him, reaching back and grabbing his arm to wrap it around the slight roundness of her stomach. It’s a feeling he’s not quite used to yet, but it’s something he’s searched for since the moment Emma’s test came back positive.

This time he feels much more prepared, like he knows far more than any book or class can teach him, but it doesn’t stop the ache in the pit of his stomach the contradicts the warmness of his heart.

Killian sighs and presses his lips to the side of Emma’s neck while his fingers trace against her stomach, his hand moving until he can maneuver himself under her shirt and feel the heat of her skin.

Emma places her hand over his, squeezing, and for awhile, he waits for her to speak, for her to set the pace and unfurl what’s on her mind.

As her breathing evens, he’s not sure that time will ever come.

“I am so tired,” she finally whispers. “I am tired down to my bones and keep waiting for that fucking second trimester energy to start, but it hasn’t. So I’m tired but I get up anyway because I have things to do here and a job, which I swear is sucking my soul out of me.”

“What happened, love?”

“Did you watch the game?”

“Bits and pieces, but I heard enough.”

She scoots back, more firmly pressing herself into him, and her hair tickles his nose, the scent of her shampoo surrounding him.

“Was I wrong to want to do this? Should I have stayed where I was? I had so much more control there. Yeah, I was basically just the pretty face they used for men to stare at, but I had a say in what I said and who I worked with. When people hated me, I didn’t have to hear about it because I wasn’t sitting in the booth next to them. How long am I just going to be the woman who doesn’t belong? The woman who is only there because of who her husband is? And I just know it’s going to go over fantastic when I finally tell everyone I’m pregnant. I have a feeling I’m not going to be able to hide it from anyone but Jace soon.”

Killian swallows and strokes her stomach as he kisses her neck again. He doesn’t know how to make this better. He never has.

“You got that job without me. You know that, right? You already had your foot in the door.”

“Killian, I know, but no one has ever seen me that way. I might as well be a star on the Real Housewives of New York.”

“That would technically be me in this situation.”

Emma laughs, and God, that’s a good sound to hear. “Ah, yes, I hear quite a lot about you being the one who is at home with our kid. It’s almost like you’re a dad.”

“Shocker, isn’t it? A dad spending time with his kid? Raising him? Being there?”

“It’s revolutionary,” she chuckles, turning and twisting around until she’s facing him and her nose is brushing against his. “I know I got the job on my own. I know I’m smart and capable and a damn badass, even if saying that makes me a little less of one. But sometimes I just wish that things were a little easier, that I worked with people I liked again. Babe, I think I would do horrible things to have you in that booth with me.”

“Hmm?”

“I mean, would it be so crazy?” She runs her hands up his side until she’s caressing one side of his face, nails curling back into his hair. “We’ve talked about it before. You expressed interest in it. And come on, I know you love staying home with Jace, but you can’t tell me you’re not itching to be doing something else.”

“Well, Ariel did call and ask if we’d go on several talk shows today.”

Her brows pinch together. “Why?”

“Apparently there was some list about attractive baseball players – ”

“Did that stroke your ego?”

“Eh, maybe a little,” he teases, kissing her nose. “But it’s something about the two of us now being in the spotlight again and a few people had reached out to her. I said I’d ask you, but I figured the answer would be no. Then today happened, and I knew it would.”

“Yeah, I’m not doing anything extra. You can go if you want.”

“I might like it, depending on what they ask and who the other guests are. Maybe I can go on one of the shows and see if they’re doing a cooking segment that day.”

“Oh, can you bring me back food?”

“Yeah, Swan, I can.” Her eyes flutter closed and Killian leans back a bit. “I will think about it, okay?”

“About what?”

“Seeing if the network would have any interest in me working with you. Not this year, I think. I want to be home with Jace and whoever this new little one is as much as I can. And Ariel has me doing events and still working with charities, and most weeks, I’m busy enough. I mean, today I was bored out of my mind, but I think working with you would be bloody wonderful. That way we’d be on a similar schedule and still have time for our family. And I guess it could keep me connected to the game, since I still haven’t quite figured out how I wanted to do that.”

“Whatever makes you happy,” Emma promises opening her eyes. “Don’t do it for me, yeah?”

“Emma – ”

“No, I’m serious, don’t do it for me. I only want it to be something you want. Killian, if you want to spend the rest of your life knitting with a group of old women, you can do that. Your career has allowed us that, but if you want to stay in this world of baseball, we can find a way for that.”

Killian blinks, swallowing the lump in his throat as his hand brushes over Emma’s hip, holding her close to him. “Are you happy, sweetheart?”

“Yeah,” she whispers, “I am. I’m also still exhausted. I think I’ll have to conquer sexism in sports tomorrow.”

  
  
“Tomorrow is your day off.”

  
  
“Then the next day then.” She pats his cheek and dips her head down to lightly brush her mouth of his, a feeling as familiar as anything else in the world. “I love you, Jones. Thank you.”

“What for?”

“For being there for me, no matter what. I have a lot of people who are like that for me now, but I haven’t always. I mean, you know. You get it.”

“Aye, I do.” Killian hugs her closer and feels her stomach press against his. It won’t be so small soon and so much will change, but for right here and right now, that’s a worry for another day. “Thank you for being that person for me, Emma. Are you ready to go to sleep? Or would you be up for some brownies I made earlier?”

  
  
“I would be up for you bringing me some brownies in bed.”

  
  
“You’re going to get crumbs on the sheets.”

“It’ll be worth it.” She kisses him again, this time slower, softer. “I’ll do the laundry.”

Killian lets out a low whistle. “You really know how to convince a man.”


	11. Put Me Back In the Ballgame (For Real This Time)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys didn't think I could forget about my favorite universe, did ya? 😘 Here's our favs taking on a new challenge in this baseball universe that very much ties into the last extra!

**March 2026**

“Do you think I should wear my uniform?”

“What?” Emma yells.

  
“Do you think I should wear my uniform?” Killian repeats, trying his hardest not to yell since Emma is one room over.

He hears Emma before he sees her, and she pops her head into the closet with her brows furrowed together and her head cocked to the side. She’s got her hair in curlers, only one eye has mascara, and her portable breast pump is attached to her. She’s a sight for sore eyes, and he couldn’t imagine a more beautiful woman if he tried.

“You’re kidding, right?” she asks, and she obviously did not find his joke funny.

Killian shrugs. “Why would I be kidding? Look at this section of the closet. It’s all my uniforms and t-shirts and joggers. I have more Yankees-branded clothes than regular clothes, and I feel like it would be fitting to wear something that paid homage to my time as a player.”

Emma’s head recoils and she shakes her head, little lines popping up on her forehead. “You’re wearing the fitted navy suit, white shirt, matching navy tie, and you have a Yankees pin to put on your lapel. Didn’t the network go over this with you?”

“No, not at all.”

Her eyes narrow, like little slits of impending death, and if she could cross her arms over her chest, she would. He knows it. “You’re fucking with me, and I don’t appreciate it.”  
  


“Come on. I know you do, love.”

“I don’t.”

Killian sighs and walks over to her, tilting his head and curling the corners of his lips. He blinks, slowly, and stares at Emma as he waits for her to smile. When she doesn’t, he places his hands on her hips and traces his lips across her neck, gently enough to not leave a mark or any trace of his stubble. If he messes up her makeup, she likely will murder him and get away with it. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Emma.”

“Killian.”

He presses a long kiss against the lobe of her ear and runs his hand down her back. “If you don’t want to have this argument on television, I feel like now might be the time we need to have it.”

“That seems like, ah – emotional blackmail.”

Killian nips down at her ear before pulling back, dipping his head so they’re eye level as he tucks a loose strand behind her ear. “You okay?”

“Honestly?”

“Always.”

“I’m a little worried that my boobs are going to start leaking on TV and that we’re going to have no chemistry together and also that we’re going to have to stop the broadcast because MJ is having a meltdown and Jace is having a meltdown because his sister is having a meltdown. And honestly, I feel like life was a lot simpler when you were lying to me about having a shoulder injury and my ex-boyfriend and your father were creating a smear campaign against us that made national headlines and nearly ruined our lives.”

Killian chuckles. He can’t help it, and he knows his wife wants to knee him in the balls for it, but he really cannot help himself. She’s stressed, and she shouldn’t be. If anything, he should be the one shitting himself because he’s the one doing something new today. But he knows better than to say that when he’s not the one who feels like he has to balance ten different jobs at once.

Emma keeps putting everything on her shoulders, like she’s the only one who can carry the stress, but he wants to carry the burdens as well. That is how their marriage works.

“You know, when you put it like that, it makes me realize our lives have never been boring. And life was probably simpler then, but none of what you’re fearing now is going to happen.”

“Really? You can guarantee that my boobs aren’t going to leak and that our children aren’t going to have meltdowns? Margot is three months old. All she does is have meltdowns and all my boobs do is leak when I get off this stupid feeding schedule because my body is only a feeding machine right now.”

Killian tilts his head and smiles. “I can guarantee we’re going to have chemistry working together.”

Emma scoffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re just saying that because you’re happy to have a job again.”

Killian shrugs and kisses Emma’s cheek. “Well, I need something to do until Jace and MJ are old enough for me to coach all of their teams.”

“Killian Jones, former three-time World Series Champion, spends his days getting yelled at by overinvolved parents of seven-year-olds at baseball and ballet and fly fishing.”

“Doesn’t sound too different from my playing days. Also, fly fishing?”

“I didn’t want to limit them. We don’t know what their hobbies are going to be.”

  
“Too true, love. I have a feeling they’ll be trying everything they can get their hands on.”

Emma huffs and taps her knuckles over Killian’s chest. The smile she’s been hiding starts poking out. “Tonight, do you think we can get Mary Margaret and David to watch the kids, and you and I go on a date? Like, a real one where we get dressed up and go out and have full intentions to have sex afterward but really, we go to bed early and wake up feeling like humans again.”

“You are speaking my language.” Killian’s hand falls to Emma’s waist and inches back to give her ass a quick squeeze. “Go finish getting ready. You’re going to make me late to my first day on the job.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I might later.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Jace wanders into the closet as Killian is buttoning his shirt – the white button down and not his jersey – and he starts a long, very detailed conversation about the pros and cons of peanut butter with peanuts and without, and Killian does his best to pay attention to him and keep him occupied as Emma gets ready. That mostly means Jace tries climbing up on the shelves and grabbing Emma’s things, and after Killian is dressed and his hair is tamed enough, he picks Jace up and takes him to get dressed. The lucky kid doesn’t have to wear a suit. He gets to wear a Yankees sweatshirt and a pair of jeans, and his hair, curly mess that it is, will never be tamed. The baby monitor on Killian’s phone goes off, telling him Margot is up from her nap, and he takes Jace with him to MJ’s nursery to get her ready as well. Ariel is watching the two of them up in the suite today, bless her, and she’ll likely watch them for every game. They wanted to hire a nanny, but Ariel insisted that there were enough people to watch all the kids during the games. That’s a lie considering they’re all old and most of them have procreated now, so the kids far outnumber the adults.

It’s like a madhouse in their suite, and Killian could barely handle it when he only had Jace.

“Hello, little love,” Killian tells MJ as he changes her out of her pajamas and into the outfit Emma laid out. “Are you ready for your first baseball game? You don’t even know how much you’re about to have to watch this game. It’s going to be your entire life, whether you like it or not.”

“Where’s Will?” Jace asks.

“Big Will or little Will?”

“Little.”

“Where’d you leave him?” Killian asks as he pulls MJ’s pants up. “You had him while eating breakfast, so he might be in the kitchen.”

“Can I go check?”

“Give me a minute.”

“Too long.”

Killian chuckles and tries hurrying to dress Margot as she squirms and moves as much as anyone as small as her can, and he keeps his eye on Jace as he goes through the books in Margot’s room. She’s got a wall of them, something Emma saw on Pinterest and wanted to do, and while they’re supposed to be displayed nicely, Jace always has other ideas.

Thankfully, Emma’s heels start clicking down the hall, and she appears in the room, a vision in a cream dress that hugs her curves and heels that will definitely distract him for the rest of the day. Killian lets out a low whistle, and she rolls her eyes. “You’re a vision, darling.”

“Pretty, Mama,” Jace agrees.

“Thank you, baby.” Emma pulls her hand out from behind her back and Will the stuffed red lobster appears. She is magical, Killian swears. “I hear you’re looking for Will.”

“Thank you,” he squeals, moving from the books and toward Emma to get the lobster.

“You guys ready to go?” Emma asks. “You look nice, babe.”

“Better than I do in my uniform?”

  
Emma laughs. “Well, I like your ass in both.”

“Ass,” Jace squeals, and Emma covers her mouth, eyes wide.

“We’re ruining them,” she whispers behind her hands. “I can’t believe I did that.”

Killian chuckles and picks MJ up, holding her in the crook of his arm. “Blame it on Will if Jace says it in public.”

“You’re horrible.”

“I’m not the one who is teaching our son curse words while talking about how attracted I am to my husband’s _behind_.”

“Let’s just go,” Emma laughs, taking MJ from him and fussing with her hair. “We’re going to be late.”

They’re not late.

They’re not even close to late. They get to the stadium ahead of time, drop the kids off with Ariel, and they have time to sneak into the clubhouse and say hello to Will, Eric, Rob, and the rest of the guys. They’re in the middle of doing press and warm-ups, and Killian has to dodge questions of his own. His time as a baseball player is over, and two years later, that’s still hard for him to accept. It’s reality, however, and he ignores the ache in his chest and threads his fingers together with Emma as they leave the clubhouse and move to the production booth to do all of their pre-game tests. Emma is a natural, and he has to remind himself this is what she’s done for years. It’s her job, and she’s damn good at it. It’s his job now, too, but this isn’t what he was meant to do. He was meant to be out on the field, not behind the glass.

That’s the past. This isn’t. It’s the here and now.

And he’s thankful to still be involved in the game that has shaped his life.

“You’re going to be great,” Emma promises, reaching over and pressing her hand over his. “We’ve done practice runs. You’ve done this before. All you have to do is talk to me and talk about baseball. That’s literally what you already do every single day.”

“Hey now, I do have things in my life I love besides you and baseball. I also enjoy my kids and baking and complaining about different aches after I’ve exercised.”

“Well, you can talk about those things too.”

“Even the time I think I pulled a muscle in my ass?”

Emma rolls her eyes and adjusts her microphone. “I know I made you feel all good about it earlier, but stop talking about your ass.”

“Actually,” Ruby says from her spot behind the camera, “I feel like that would make our ratings go up.”

Killian shakes his head and chuckles, rolling in his chair and straightening his back as Emma does the same, adjusting her dress and not-so-slightly checking to see if she’s started leaking. Just another day in the life for them. Ruby holds up her fingers, counting down to the camera starting to roll, and Killian looks at Emma, waiting for her to begin.

“Hi, my name is Emma Jones, and I’m here with a familiar face to most of you. I’m thrilled to welcome former Yankees starting pitcher, three-time World Series Champion, two-time Cy Young Award winner, an eight-time All Star, and most impressively, the father of my children and my husband, Killian Jones. He’ll be working with me all season long, and I promise you he got the job all on his own merit. It has nothing to do with any strings I’ve pulled.”

“Well, that sounds a little suspicious, love.”

“Only if you point it out.”

Killian laughs and turns away from Emma to look at the camera. “I’m thrilled to be working with Emma and the rest of the crew this season, as well as getting to mercilessly critique my former teammates. Scarlet, I’m looking at you.”

“Welcome to Opening Day,” Emma chuckles, squeezing his hand under the desk, and his racing heart settles, the beat staying in the settled place where it always is with Emma by his side. No matter how much he wants to be out on the field and no matter how much he still misses it, he cannot imagine a place where he’d rather be right now. “Let’s look at this highlight reel of last season, and then we’ll talk about all the roster changes for this season. I think it’s going to be a good one.”

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me on Tumblr at [let-it-raines](https://let-it-raines.tumblr.com/)! The best way for me to get a prompt is through my inbox, so feel free to stop on by!


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